


The Road to Ithilien

by Bethann, Minniemoggie



Series: Legendary Friendship [11]
Category: The Lord of the Rings (Movies), The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types, The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Angst, Father-Son Relationship, Fluff, Friendship, Humor, Spanking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-03
Updated: 2013-05-22
Packaged: 2017-12-04 03:55:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 29,135
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/706258
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bethann/pseuds/Bethann, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Minniemoggie/pseuds/Minniemoggie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This story goes back to the chronological order and takes place when Legolas is setting up his colony in Ithilien not too long after the ring war.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

FIC: The Road to Ithilien P1

Authors: Beth & Minnie

Disclaimer:  They do not belong to us, but we are working on it!

A/N: Another in our series of Gimli/Legolas POV stories this one set mainly in Ithilien as Legolas starts to set up his colony.

 

A light breeze causes the pennant that my standard bearer carries to flutter, showing off the new emblem of my house, nine green and silver ivy leaves on a white background.

I cannot help but smile at the sight, my own emblem, for my own demesne. Now I am a prince not only of Eryn Lasgalen but also a Prince of Ithilien, having accepted the title from King Elessar when he requested that the elves of Greenwood would help to heal the lands of the Moon where much damage has been done by Sauron and his minions.

When Aragorn had first requested our help, I had, had little thought that I would do anything more than offer to ask my father for his permission to stay in the south and supervise the work of renewal as my father’s representative. It came as a huge surprise when Aragorn announced he wished to offer the land to me for my own and also intended to show his appreciation for all my support in the war by making me a Prince of Gondor just as he had Faramir.

What was perhaps even more surprising was that my father had been in favour of what was being suggested for Aragorn had apparently written to the king to ask his opinion over his proposal long before he mentioned it to me. Thranduil, Aragorn told me, had decided it would be a good learning experience for his child as well as a suitable reward for my efforts during the quest and beyond. I was rather happier about the latter reason for acceptance than the former; I am rather tired of ‘learning’.

The area of land we will settle in is on the eastern side of the Anduin north of Cair Andros at the junction of the river near the field of Cormallen between Nindalf and Nonman-lands. From there we can strike out north or south, as we are needed to help heal the land. The forests still stand proudly here although much damage was done to them by the evil that seeped through the earth from Mordor.

The main settlement it was agreed would be north of Emyn Arnen, where Faramir and Eowyn are building their new house, a very beautiful manor of warm stone and slate roofs. I like what I have seen of their plans although I have very different ideas for my own new home. I am determined that no longer will elves be forced to live within stone walls, or even beneath the earth in the great fortress that is my father’s home. I have long yearned for a return to a simpler life, one that my Silvan mother had enjoyed. I envisage my new home being made up of Telain and flet set high up in the trees rather than the cottages and houses on or even under the ground that have been necessary through much of the Third Age to ensure our safety and survival.

One of the reasons I have chosen that particular site for my new home is the trees, great sturdy birches that have somehow weathered all that Sauron and the might of Mordor has thrown at them, birches that had hummed with contentment when first I stepped into the centre of the glade where they grew. Gimli has approved of the site as well, pointing out the close proximity to clean water and open grassland for the horses and even hopefully for some cultivation so that the colony will be almost fully self sufficient. Gimli has also taken great interest in the stone that litters the area. The remains of settlements that have been abandoned since Sauron settled in Mordor. It is good stone, my friend has pronounced, and well chosen by the builders of earlier ages. I was more interested in introducing myself to the trees at the time so just nodded idly, wondering anew just what it was that made the dwarf so excited about lifeless ‘stone’.

There are some things that even now I do not understand about my friend Gimli Gloinson one being his abiding love of rock and stone.

It has been some time since I have seen my friend for Gimli has been busy working on the Great Gates of the White City, and I have been caught up in plans for my new colony. Now I am on my way to meet with my friend and his mother and then to escort them on a visit to the area where my settlement in the forests of Ithilien will be built.

I look up as we pass through the remains of the forts that had guarded the Ramas Echor, which encircled the Pelennor Fields. In the distance just over four leagues or so Minas Tirith rises out of the plains, shimmering in the heat, looking very different now from my first sight of it during the battle of the Pelennor.

“Shall I send a messenger ahead to announce our arrival?” Galathil asks

I shake my head, “No, I do not wish to make myself look any more foolish than I already do. Why you thought it necessary to saddle me with an escort I will never know.”

Captain Galathil, my newly appointed guard captain merely smiles at this complaint. Having heard me repeat it for the last three days since I announced my intention of riding unaccompanied to the city of men and he pointed out very swiftly that my new position as Prince of Ithilien required me to accept a certain level of proper pomp and ceremony which included a ‘proper’ guard detail.  The Mortals will expect it he had urged and not only that since we would be escorting Lord Gimli and Lady Vonild back to the new settlement a guard was a necessity for my foster mother’s safety would be my concern and my responsibility.

Galathil knows better than to gloat but I know inwardly he is grinning since he knows I know he is right! There is a great deal more to think about now, than there was when I was just another Captain in my Adar’s warrior brigades, as I am just beginning to realize.

The sound of silver trumpets rings out as we approach the new gates, my own fanfare, one I entitled to as a Prince of Ithilien and liegeman of the King of Gondor. I wish I could just slip in quietly as I used to but that is now impossible since the guard on the gates has orders to sound the fanfare whenever I enter the city. I will have to try and come up with something equally as irritating for when Aragorn comes calling in Ithilien for I am sure he is responsible for all this foolishness.

I am likely to have some time to think of some way of getting my revenge since I am going to be staying in the city until Gimli has finished his work on the Great Gates and from what I can see of them as we ride through there is still some considerable work to be done on them.

Gimli is a perfectionist and rightly proud of his craft, he takes great care in all he does and has very strong opinions on what is necessary. I know that he and Aragorn disagreed over the amount and strength of the steel work needed for the gates. Gimli’s argument won the day of course, if he believes he is in the right and that what he proposes is for the best, he will not allow anyone to overrule his judgment, whoever they might be, which Aragorn found to his cost when he tried to get Gimli to make changes to his plans for the gate.

I can picture the dwarf now growling at Aragorn and poking him in the chest as he lectured him on his foolishness. ‘Now listen to me laddie, if I was foolish enough to allow you to persuade me to make the changes you are suggesting, and then some new evil arose and they broke through these gates because they were not strong enough, I couldn’a live with myself. What I do is for your benefit for your safety aye and that of your wife, and I willn’a allow you to put yourself or your kin at risk. You can be sure I know what is best, leave it to me.’

And so it seems he has for the amount of steelwork being prepared in the smithies on the first level and the sound of the hammers is testimony to our dwarf’s intentions. So, it seems my visit is likely to be a lengthy one, which I do not object to as it will be some time yet before the elves who are coming south from Eryn Lasgalen will reach Ithilien. I had a missive from my father only a week ago telling me he is sending supplies and equipment to help me in the founding of my new home. It will be several weeks I suspect before they get here for they will be moving slowly if wains and pack animals are being used. Ada did not specify what he was sending but I do not doubt that whatever he sends will be useful, we have little enough at the present time. Not that that is a problem, those of us already in Ithilien are accustomed to camp life, most of us having been warriors or foresters. I was initially dismayed that Adar insisted on sending a warrior patrol to me, but I can see the sense of it now, for although much of the evil spawned by Sauron has been cleansed, there are still pockets of resistance and a need for security while we build our new home.

This issue of comfort and security comes home to me as I am summoned after dinner to sit with Arwen. I can tell from her expression that she is less than pleased with me yet search my mind as I can, I can think of no reason for her to be. I arrived on time for dinner, appropriately dressed and have as far as I know not done anything as of yet to annoy my hosts or Gimli and his Naneth.

I throw a beseeching glance in Gimli’s direction; he and Aragorn are going off to look at some designs Gimli is drawing up for a house somewhere. I am not truth to tell all that interested in such things but I would sooner be with them than with a fractious Arwen. Gimli however waves me off telling me to go and keep the Queen company for awhile. There is no sign of his mother, whose kindness towards me I am sure would have led her to offer me support at this unexpected ordeal but Lady Vonild is off somewhere with Mistress Hild, a widow from Rohan who chose to remain in Gondor after the war. We met at dinner and it was plain she and my foster mother get on well together, for they are both plain talking and do not suffer fools gladly. Mistress Hild is going to live at Emyn Arnen with Faramir and Eowyn apparently but for now she is following Eowyn’s example and learning something of the healing arts.

“Tithen Las”

Arwen raises her hand and pats the space next to her on the couch and since there is nothing else for it I go and perch at her side.

She immediately begins to question me over the arrangements I have made to accommodate the visit to my new home of my foster mother.  Truthfully, I have not really given much thought to it, an answer Arwen is not at all happy with.

“Well you should have done so. She is no elf,” She snaps at me rapping my knuckles with her fan.

I resist the urge to sigh at this comment; of course I know Vonild is not an elf! She is a dwarven matron and a formidable one at that and would not thank us for suggesting she was not capable of dealing with a few minor inconveniences. I would have done better to hold my tongue of course but could not resist pointing out that Lady Vonild seemed very happy travelling with us to Aglarond last year for Dorbryn’s wedding and that she never complained.

Arwen snorts derisively, “Of course she did not, for you were travelling and she was not a lone female. She had her daughter with her and Lord Gloin and Gimli. When she goes with you to Ithilien, she will be on her own, you told me yourself that as of yet only a very few of your kin have come south and not an elleth amongst them I suspect, am I correct?”

I shrug but am given no opportunity to reply because Arwen is well into her stride now

“What is more the nights in Ithilien at this season can be very cold, and the days wet, while such inconveniences may have little effect on you, Vonild will prefer proper shelter from the elements and some privacy as well. You cannot have been expecting her to bathe in the river surely?”

She can tell from my expression that I had been thinking just that, and I find myself turning red under Arwen’s exasperated scrutiny. It is another reminder to me that there is a great deal to be thought of in my new position as leader of the colony in Ithilien. I am not happy about the fact that I am showing my inexperience so badly and do not react well when Arwen snaps at me.

“Ai, males, you never see anything that is not at the end of your noses, and sometimes not even then. Lady Vonild is a redoubtable female, and she will make no criticism of you or your lack of thoughtfulness I suspect for she is entirely too fond of you. But it will not do Thranduilion. Fortunately for you, I have thought about what would be needful, and have made arrangements for my own travelling pavilion to be placed at Vonild’s disposal. Mistress Hild has indicated that she is happy to accompany Vonild to Ithilien and offer her company and support if you will undertake to escort her in turn to Emyn Arnen at the end of the visit.”

“Thank you” I mumble I hesitate to add more, for I am grateful for this help but dismayed at the need for it. I know I should have thought of these things and I am angry with myself that I did not.

Arwen unaware of my thoughts pats my hand and smiles “Do not look so dismayed Tithen Las, no one expects you to think of everything this is a time of learning for you, and remember that there are others who will be more than willing to help you. You only need ask.”

But that is what I do not want to have to do; I want to prove to them and myself that I am capable of doing this task.

 

xxxx

 

One month more.  That is the time I estimate it will take for the Great Gate to be complete and then I will move on for a time, leaving others to work on repairing the other gates on all the other levels of the city.  The White City has been designed to withstand an invasion with a gate on each of the seven levels of the city, all staggered to make capture by enemy forces more difficult.  They all have some degree of damage, but nothing like the destruction of the Great Gate. The main gate faces eastward toward Pelennor Fields and the Anduin and the old gate was all but completely annihilated during the war.  My crews have been working from dawn til dusk for months on replacing the old iron and steel gate with a brand new one made entirely of steel and mithril.  Aragorn believes it an unnecessary extravagance to use mithril in the gate, as it is a priceless commodity since the Kingdom of Khazad-dûm was destroyed, cutting off all new production of the metal. 

He is right, it is extravagant and yet I have reminded him that having placed me in charge of this project, I will see it done right.  Mithril is stronger even than the tempered steel we are also using in the construction of the new gates.  I am satisfied that no unknown evil that may arise in future will be able to break through this gate.  Of course it is a boon that it will be beautiful as well as being impenetrable, for mithril when finished correctly will gleam just like polished glass.  Three weeks should have the structure finished, and then the detail work of polishing and smoothing will take one more week beyond that, and then I will be ready to move on to my next project of helping Legolas get started in his new home. 

Faramir has already been given the Princedom of Ithilien and installed himself and his household in the hills of Emyn-Arnen where Eowyn has begun her campaign to restore Ithilien back to its former beauty. Aragorn has very generously offered Legolas a portion of the land there and he has agreed in turn to welcome a colony of elves from Eryn Lasgalen, who will over time build gardens and tend the trees there and return this place back to its former glory, for it was once called the Garden of Gondor, and was known far and wide as one the most beautiful places in Middle Earth.   I have seen the site he has chosen to settle and build, and I am very satisfied, for even now after so much destruction has been wreaked across the area, there are great groves of ash, bay, cedar, juniper and even olive trees.  The very air itself is still fragrant with the scent of hyacinths and wild roses and bunches of marjoram, parsley, sage, and thyme can be found all about.  Plus the stone leftover from past settlements is abundant and of good quality and will make fine material to get the new building work underway.

I could not be more pleased for my friend, for he will be quite happy in such a rich land and if he is willing to accept help and advice from those with some experience, he will certainly thrive there as well.  It is a fitting reward for all he has done over many, many years fighting the shadow that encroached on all of us.  He is still considered quite young by the standards of his people, something that is easy to see when you get to know him as I have, and there were many times during the war that I felt a great deal of sadness over the fact that dark times required such like ones to fight before their time. But now I can be wholly joyful, for those times are behind us for good and we can look forward to peace and security.  This land and this project will be a real balm to my elfling and will serve as a distraction from the sea longing that I realize he has been afflicted with.  After telling me about it initially, he has never spoken of it again, but I am aware that it is not something that will go away. I am selfish enough to hope he will choose to sail when I am nearly ready to leave this world, though of course I would never ask it of him.

 I must turn my mind away from such dark thoughts and instead think about the nearer future, when I will reveal the plans I have spent my evenings and spare moments drawing out for the home that we will begin construction on when we return to Ithilien.  It is designed to take advantage of the materials that are readily available and that can be a hauled into the area and offers every possible convenience anyone could want including grand tubs that can be filled with heated water, and an irrigation system that can be operated with one hand for all three of the sizable courtyard gardens.  I look forward to his reaction, though I will keep it as a surprise for when we arrive.  I have not kept them entirely to myself, for my mother is with me and she has made it her business to know what has kept me so occupied that I have not been able, as she says, to show her around the city properly. 

Having made the trip from Erebor to Eryn Las Galen and the Glittering Caves, my mother now considers herself a seasoned traveler, never mind that until now it has been unheard of for dwarven womenfolk to be seen outside unless for absolutely necessary reasons.  Truth be told, I think Lady Vonild enjoys scandalizing folks with her new found modern ways.  Having already shocked everyone by breaking with tradition and publicly declaring Legolas as not only dwarf kin, but as a sworn son to her own clan, she now considers herself quite the trendsetter.  And I say why shouldn’t she enjoy herself in her old age?  As she says we are in a new age now and we must keep up with the times.

 She insisted on seeing the White City and Ithilien, when she heard of my plans to travel there and truthfully it has been mostly pleasant having her along, except that she became a bit perturbed that I hadn’t shown her the sights of Minas Tirith.  When I explained the reasons I had been busy in the evenings, she frowned and warned me that I mustn’t make too many plans without talking with the elfling first and muttered to herself about the presumptuousness of the male species.  It was then that I decided she needed someone other than myself to keep her company. The Queen suggested Mistress Hild, a widow from Rohan, and they have hit it off famously, spending their days shopping and sightseeing and their evenings gossiping and drinking ale or wine in Mam’s chambers or even sometimes with the Queen herself.  

My only concern about having my mother along is that I knew when we arrived in Ithilien living arrangements would be less than ideal and we would be living in primitive conditions for an extended period of time. Though I am certain she wouldn’t complain, she isn’t used to dealing with the elements and she’s not as young as she used to be, and her being the lone female in our company created a few challenges as well.

  When I told Arwen of my concerns, she pointed out that Legolas, as our host, should have made some sort of arrangement for her.  She became quite incensed at the thought that he most likely hadn’t even thought of it. Probably she is right, but as I told her, if he hadn’t thought of such, it wasn’t because he was unconcerned or uncaring, but just that he was inexperienced in such matters.  Instead of placating her, this seemed to irritate her even more and she declared that she would make sure he gained experience in a hurry for she intended to see that he fully understood what is required of him as a host for he will undoubtedly come across such situations again as he is sure to have plenty of guests in future.  So the poor lad is about to be thrown in at the deep end it seems, and he is already in the Queen’s black books before even setting foot in the city. 

Though I do not envy him his meeting with Arwen, I will say that I am quite anxious for Legolas’ arrival, as it has been nearly a year since we were together last, and I admit I have missed him sorely.  There was a time when I would never have admitted to such a thing, but now there is no use hiding it, for our friendship has become widely known ever since the war ended.  For a long time we received curious stares everywhere we were seen together but now, for the most part, folks don’t even bat an eye.  Of course there are those among our people on both sides who find it offensive that we choose to keep company with one another, but here in this city of men there are few who care one way or another and if any of the dwarves among my workers have an issue with it, then none are foolish enough or brave enough to make mention of it in front of me.  Not that I care what folks think anyway.  I am not my mother’s son for nothing.

So while I am occupied all day with the various tasks that go along with supervising the work crews, one part of my mind is focused on watching for my friend’s arrival.  I have to laugh, though when he does finally arrive in the early afternoon for my watching was entirely unnecessary since there is no way I could have missed his arrival.  Silver trumpets blast causing all those working in the area to stop and stare as the temporary main gate is opened wide for the company of elves to enter the city.  The King has quite a twisted sense of humor, for I suspect this fanfare was arranged by him for the sole purpose of galling his friend, as he knows that Legolas is irritated by all things formal or done for propriety’s sake.  If that is the case, he can congratulate himself on his success, for when I do spot the lad, I can see he is scowling rather darkly, though the Guard Captain who rides next to him is smothering a smile. 

My heart skips a beat, for that last time he entered this city with that same look on his face, we ran into trouble that nearly ended in tragedy.  I remind myself that the situation is entirely different now, yet I have learned to be only cautiously optimistic when it comes to my charge, for he has a penchant for getting into scrapes.  He may not like to be reminded of it, but he will still find himself in my charge, never mind that he has a whole contingent of guards traveling with him.  This responsibility has not been lifted from me and I have made an oath to his father to watch out for him when we are together. Of course I will not point this out, unless it becomes necessary.  For now I just watch with the crowd and wait for him to see me. 

It only takes a moment for him to do so, and his face immediately clears as he forgets all proper decorum and leaps down from the back of his beast to greet me.  My workers exchange amused glances as he all but throws himself at me, causing me to drop the stack of parchments I am carrying.  I laugh and enfold him into a firm embrace. 

“Have a care, Laddie,” I chuckle,  “those plans took months to draw!  We’ll never finish this gate if I have to begin all over again.”

“Sorry, Elvellon,” he says, kneeling to pick up the parchments. Stacking them neatly, he hands them back to me with a smile.  “I am just happy to see you again.”

“As I am you,” I tell him, “It has been too long.”

He is a bit disappointed when I tell him I won’t be able to follow him back to the Citadel right away, for there is much I must do today if we are to finish this work by the deadline I have chosen.  Still I will see him at dinner tonight and Lady Vonild will certainly be thrilled to have a chance to fuss over him without my being around.  I also let him know that he is welcome to stay with me in the apartments we lived in together when we were in the city before, though I will have to be sure to hide the plans I have drawn up for the house I will propose to build for him, not that he would be curious enough about such a thing to ask what it was. 

Dinner turns out to be a pleasant affair, though as soon as my mother and her new friend are off to some event or other, Arwen begins giving Aragorn and I pointed looks to indicate that we should make ourselves scarce so she can talk privately to Legolas.  The King quickly asks me to show him those plans I had been telling him about and as we rise to leave Legolas throws me a pleading look.  He must realize he’s in for it with the queen, but when I open my mouth in an attempt to rescue him, Arwen shoots me such a dark glare that I wave him off instead.  She will have her say one way or another so he might as well have it over and there is no need for me to invoke her wrath and have her on my case as well. 

It is late evening before he seeks me out again. I quickly shove the sketches I am making into a nearby drawer as he enters the room.  I can read in his face that his meeting with the queen was as I expected it to be.  Clearly she has made plain his errors in lack of planning, but I cannot resist asking.

“How went your talk with the queen?”  I ask as innocently as I can. “Is all well?”

“Everything is fine,” he states, “I was just finalizing plans for accommodations for Lady Vonild’s visit to Ithilien.”

“Thank you, Lad,” I say seriously, “I’m certain she will appreciate your forethought.”

“Of course,” he says,  “I mean the nights are cold and damp there this time of year, and she can hardly be expected to bathe in the river can she?  But never fear. I have arranged everything.”

“That is very good of you,” I smile, “ I’m glad you thought of it.”

“Indeed,” he says, “you can count on me.”


	2. Chapter 2

 

‘Count on me’ I snort silently, and repeat my earlier boastful words to my friend to myself. Who am I trying to fool? I have lain awake all through the dark watches of the night berating myself for my foolish words to Gimli. Is it any wonder that Arwen took me so severely to task? I had, given no thought as to the consequences of my invitation to Lady Vonild to visit my new demesne. All these centuries I have taken for granted the efforts of Chiatin and others, those whose work it is to see to the comfort of a household. Thank Eru that Arwen had the foresight to see what would be necessary to provide my foster mother with at least the necessities of life while she is in Ithilien.

I am grateful for her efforts but equally as determined not to find myself in such a situation again. From now on I must be the one to whom others look for guidance and support not the other way round.

Although my failure to think of such things is a concern to me, I had realized there would be much for me to learn, many things to remember so that those who have offered to come and help me heal Ithilien have as good an experience as I can provide, but I had not thought I would be floundering so soon. My Adar makes it all seem so easy, but then he has guided our people through two ages and is confident in his abilities just as Lord Elrond, Lord Glorfindel and Lord Erestor are.

Aragorn also seems to be growing easy in his new role as king of the reunited kingdoms. But then again he has many around him to offer advice and guidance and he appears to welcome it, my brow furrows at this difference between mortal and immortal. Perhaps mortal kind are less concerned about the way others see them, perhaps they do not see such acceptance as a ‘weakness’ a ‘failing’ something to be avoided.

It is not something I would wish to emulate; I have to find my own way if I am to make a success of the colony. I am the leader of the colony and even though my heart quails at what lies ahead of me I know what that entails. I give myself a mental shake, and remind myself I have long wanted to lead an independent life. It is for me to make choices and decisions and to stand by them.

For now, I have promised I will squire Lady Vonild and Mistress Hild through Minas Tirith, they are going shopping and while I would sooner have my teeth forcibly extracted than spend the day trailing after females engaged in such activities, I am resigned to my fate.

But before I waste my day carrying parcels for the two ladies I am going to seek out Captain Galathil and give him orders to purchase a variety of foodstuffs and any other necessities so that when Vonild comes to my new home she will be as comfortable as we can make her and all her needs will be met. Galathil will probably know what to buy and it will give him something to fill his and my escort’s days as we wait for Gimli to complete his work on the gates. If I have to go shopping I do not see why they should escape it!

Thinking of Gimli makes me smile, I have missed my friend far more than I care to admit, his solid presence offers me the reassurance I still occasionally need, and I trust him as I do few others. His only concern is my care, and while there are times when his ‘care’ is rather too personal for my comfort, I know I have a great deal to thank him for, which gives me another reason for ensuring my foster mothers wellbeing when we finally take the road north. That will be one way I can show both him and Lady Vonild my appreciation for all their love and care.

At least I will not be forced to spend the whole of the next few weeks while I wait for the work on the gates to be completed kicking my heels, or acting as a guide for the female contingent. For Aragorn wishes me to advise him on the planting and refurbishment of the gardens here in the city, I am looking forward to it almost as much as spending time with my family and friends.

And if I must spend a long day wandering the levels of the White City acting as little more than a carrier of parcels, well during that time I will give some thought as to how I can get a little of my own back on my friend Aragorn for his perfidy at setting those trumpets on me whenever I enter the city. Perhaps by the time he comes to Eryn gîl Ithil I will have come up with some sort of revenge, it will have to be equally as noisy and loathsome, if not trumpets, mayhap horns, yes now that sounds quite promising, horns, and perhaps drums together they will make a very ‘appropriate’ sound to give welcome to the King of Gondor and Arnor. I am still smiling when I meet with Gimli to break my fast and have to try and come up with a plausible story for the gleam in my eye and the smile on my lips, fortunately the arrival of Lady Vonild spares me a dwarven inquisition and I escape with her into the dining hall before Gimli can demand what I am up to. I hope my good fortune continues for the next four weeks or so, it would make a very pleasant change if that was the case!

 

Finally we are on our way and what a cavalcade we have become, there is my contingent of guards, several carts and wagons containing the provisions Galathil purchases, pack horses and ponies, belonging to Gimli they are carrying all kinds of tools that my friend insists he ‘will need’ for what I have no idea, but since he was insistent on them coming I decided it would be wiser not to inquire to closely into their purpose. I have learned perhaps more slowly than I should have, not to challenge my friend when he gets a particular expression on his face. I look back down the line of vehicles to where the wagon driven by Lady Vonild and Mistress Hild is, behind them is a large wain which holds the Queen’s Pavilion and two young Gondorian maid servants who will go with Mistress Hild to Emyn Arnen to start a new life in the household of Faramir and Eowyn, but for now will serve Vonild in any capacity she chooses.

I suppress a yawn, and then look around quickly hoping no one has seen it. I have spent most of the last few days and nights trying to ensure that all is in readiness for today, I hope I have remembered everything, it is important to me to start off on the right foot and make a good impression on my visitors.

My month in the White City was enjoyable for the most part, to see gardens beginning to bloom and plants to grow is very satisfactory. I wish my friend Samwise Gamgee could have been with me though, for the little Hobbit gardener really does seem to enjoy working with plants as much as any elf and his sound commonsense and joyous attitude to life is a balm to any soul.  What I did not enjoy was the constant ‘junketing’ that seems to be the life of Aragorn Elessar and Arwen Undomniel presently, when I complained of this Gimli told me it is the lot of all rulers to do such things. I riposted that my father did not go in for such ‘junketing’.

But Gimli pointed out that during much of my lifetime my father has been preoccupied with fighting the shadow, and that there was little time for junkets, however he added “Your da likes a feast as much as anyone lad, and I think you will find he is far more likely to entertain now than he was before, and of course Aragorn is a new king, he needs to meet with his neighbors, to build alliances, all new leaders have to do the same sort of thing.”

I suspect he was hinting at me that such would be my lot once my colony is settled, but I am determined not to get involved in such foolishness. I will have more important tasks ahead of me the healing of the land and putting right the wrongs done to it by Sauron.

For now I have the task of leading this strange cavalcade out across the Pelennor and up the road to Ithilien.

XXXX

 

I have said before that we never know what we might see in this world until we draw our dying breath.  That thought comes freshly to mind as I look at the long straggling line in front of me. My traveling companions are quite a hodgepodge group of several elves, three human females, and my mother and I.  Who would have ever dreamed I’d live to see my own mother out in the open and driving a wagon full of supplies with a human companion sitting next to her.  The picture becomes even more bizarre when a golden-haired elf comes up next to her to ask over her comfort, and I cannot control a snort of amusement when she smiles fondly at him and then reaches down to pat his cheek and thank him for his concern.  If I had seen such a sight a few years ago, I would have believed it to be a dream resulting from too much ale.  It does not seem possible, and yet here we are getting ready to exit through newly replaced main gate of the White City and make our way across Pelennor to Ithilien. 

As our caravan moves out, I turn back and watch with satisfaction, as the new gate swings easily shut.  It is truly a work of art on top of being functional, if I do say it myself, with the intricate patterns of mithril shined to perfection so that they gleam in the sunshine.  It has been a long time in the making, but anything worth having is worth taking the time to plan and build and I have the satisfaction of knowing that the King and Queen as well as any children they may have in the future will be safe from enemy invaders.

The last month has been busy, but pleasant and surprisingly smooth sailing.  My mother has purchased so many things that she will need to add a room to her home to keep it all. I’m surprised the poor pony isn’t buckling under the weight of her parcels as it is.  And speaking of parcels, Legolas has spent the month to good purpose too for we are now loaded down with enough supplies to last a good long time as well.  When I visited before, we managed on dry meat and fruit and whatever we could find to kill and cook over a fire, but since our numbers will be increased, and we will be staying for an extended period, it is well that he has us so well supplied.

The carts and wagons are now loaded to full capacity, some filled with foodstuffs and others filled with tents, cookware and other necessities.  I looked through things last night to make sure we were ready and hadn’t forgotten anything vital and was pleased to see that the elfling had thought of nearly everything.  But as I dug through the stacks of tents, I realized that a couple of things were missing.  We will need temporary storage area for our food supplies where they can be kept off the wet ground and secured against wild animals that might get into them.  Damp flour would quickly mold and be useless to us.  And thinking of flour, we also needed a way to bake it into something useful for food.  So I put in enough lumber and tarp to build a temporary shelter, and some thick metal sheets, that when riveted together would make a suitable camp oven.

 So it was the wee hours of the morning before I made it to my bed last night. On my way, I ran into Legolas talking with his new guard Captain, so I stop to say goodnight and suggest that he follow my example as we had some long days ahead, and though he nodded in agreement to my suggestion, he was missing at first meal and when I made my way outside, I could see no evidence that he had come in at all last night.  Of course that is typical behavior for my elfling, especially is he is anxious over something, which I am certain must be the case.

The trip is uneventful, except for one cart that overturned after hitting a deep rut in the road.  We soon had it put to right and were on our way, but Legolas seemed more unnerved by it than I would have expected for such a small inconvenience.  Mam notices also and suggests that I find out what it is that has him so upset, but I brush it off as ordinary apprehension that comes from taking on such a huge project. 

In any event we soon arrive to our destination, and there is a flurry of activity to get things organized and set up.  My first order of business after removing the burdens from the ponies and seeing to their comfort, is to set up the temporary shelter for our food supplies, since the carts will soon be unloaded I choose a flat area on the top of a little hill so that the shelter won’t get flooded if it rains, and then first build a platform that constitutes the floor.  Next I build a few rough shelves and then encase the entire thing with tarps that can be laced together in the front so that nothing can get in that shouldn’t. 

As I begin to unload the pieces to the queen’s pavilion, I notice that Legolas is rushing about from one place to the next, trying to personally oversee every operation that is taking place.  I admire his dedication, but I can see he is trying to accomplish the impossible and setting himself up for a fall. As the day moves on Mother notices as well, for she comes up beside me and voices her concern again calling on me to act.

 “He is going to burn out before the first week at this rate.  You need to do something.”

What exactly does she think I can do, I wonder?  I can see he is trying to take on too much, but I’m certain that all will be well when we get things organized better.  There is too much to do right now to stop and commiserate every time she notices a slight problem with her darling.  If Mam had her way, I would call a halt to our work every time he furrows his brow so we could figure out what could possible cause such an expression and fix it immediately.  If the Lad thinks I am overprotective, he doesn’t yet fully understand my mother.  Still I know she will not let up until I answer her.

“Now is not the time, Mam,” I tell her, “he prefers learning things the hard way at times.”

“Hmmph, we’ll see about that,” she replies.  And I can tell she is just waiting for the right moment to speak her mind. He may well rue the day he agreed to accept my mother’s offer to be a part of our family. 

It is well into the afternoon when the food supplies begin to be unloaded.  The wagons will be needed for other pursuits so they must be moved. Someone turns to Legolas for direction as to where to put them and I notice his eyes widen in alarm.  Clearly he is only just now thinking of that problem, but before he can panic too much, I point to the shelter I’ve already erected for this purpose. Instead of looking relieved at this solution, he grimaces as he comes up beside me.

“I should have thought of it,” he says regretfully.

“Never mind, Lad. It is taken care of,” I say.

Mistress Hild, who has kindly offered to cook for our company suggests that ovens for baking the bread be placed near to the supplies so she will not have to bother anyone to haul them for her, but will have easy access.  As soon as she mentions the word ‘ovens’ the elfling becomes even more distressed.  He slaps his forehead in dismay.

“I didn’t think of that either!” he groans, “how could I be so stupid as to forget something so vital?”

“No need to fret so, Laddie, I have them.  I’ll assemble them now.”

He is only partially appeased, “ _I_ should have thought of it, myself.”

“The important thing is we have them, so there is no harm done.”

“It was a careless and ridiculous mistake,” he berates himself further, “What if you hadn’t been with me to bail me out?”

“Then ye would have figured out a solution,” I growl indicating he should drop the subject, “The important thing is that we have it. It does not matter who remembered to pack it.”

“But Gimli, I…”

I interrupt him by grabbing him firmly by the shoulders and speaking slowly and deliberately as I look into his face.  “Look, Child, perhaps you should have had someone check over your supplies before we left, but you have not committed an unforgivable act.  No one expects you to think of every detail on your own.  That is why you have family and friends.  Let it go, Elfling.”

He nods slightly, but it is easy to see he hasn’t really let it go.  After that he redoubles his efforts to see to every detail, never stopping for a moment.  Mam gives me dark looks all day as if this is my fault, but I am too involved in my work to do anything about it at the moment.

 Legolas even manages to raise her ire a little, something he has never done before.  Seeing she is having trouble lighting a fire under one of the heavy ovens, he pushes her aside and gives it a try himself.  She says nothing, but merely crosses her arms and taps her foot impatiently, which I recognize as a dire sign, but he is too absorbed in his task to notice.  Finally he manages to light a slender stick with a bit of flint and then lies on his side so he can see underneath to where Mother has placed some dry leaves and twigs to get the fire started.  He has more success than he had hoped for when a slight breeze causes some dry leaves to suddenly catch, a quick flame licks out from under the oven and singes a few long strands of his hair that were spread loosely out on the ground. 

I smother a laugh as he rolls out of the way and sits up, giving the oven an angry scowl, but Mam doesn’t seem to find anything amusing about the situation.  She makes a strangled cry in her throat and grabs him by the collar to prevent him from rising.  Before he can protest, she has gathered his hair and tied it in one long braid down his back and secured it with a bit of twine she removes from one of her own braids.  She is scolding the whole time.

“Ai, Child!  Do you not know how dangerous it is to work with your hair flying about loose like that?” 

“My hair is always loose,” he protests, “every elf here has loose hair.” I cringe at his words for I know from experience how well that will go over.

“It does not matter how everyone else has it,” she admonishes, ”It is up to you to set the example when it comes to safety.”  She gives his braid a rough yank, “now slow down and be more careful, before something worse that a few singed hairs happens.”

Seeing his stunned expression, she softens her words with a kiss to the top of his head and then looks up. Her eyes widen in amazement and then she smiles.  The elfling and I both look in the same direction to see what has caused this sudden change, and we can see three figures riding side by side toward us.  The one in the middle is slightly in front of the others, long golden hair streaming behind him in the wind.  His green cape also flows behind him and a plain silver band serves as a circlet on his brow.

Lady Vonild’s smile broadens, “You did not tell me that your da’ was coming!” she says.

Legolas blinks a few times before replying, “I did not know myself.”

 

XXXX

 

Finally in the distance I see the stately birch trees of Eryn gîl Ithil ahead of me. We have been travelling for three days, where I could normally have made the journey within a day. But of course we have had to move at the pace of the slowest of our carts and the heavy wains with their teams of horses have to be rested frequently. No one else seems to have been irritated by this except me, I have been on edge since setting out and my temper was not improved when one of the carts actually overturned when it hit a rut in the road. Gimli told me that we should be grateful no one was hurt, and of course I am, save it seems to me that everything is conspiring against me and all I seem to touch presently goes awry.

I have tried very hard not to show my growing discomfort with what lies ahead but the long days of dull travel have left me with too much time to think of all the things that will need to be done. Initially I was so excited about this new life, I had so many plans but day by day my confidence has been leeched away, it is often the smallest of things that seem to cause so much trouble. Not that the cart overturning was a small thing, we had to unload it, repair the wheel and then repack before moving on, it means we are later than I hoped. My head aches and I will glad when the day ends and I can get some proper rest.

 One bright spot has been the company of Lady Vonild and Mistress Hild, who have been unswervingly cheerful and supportive during the journey. Hild was the first to reach the over turned cart and soon had the horses unhitched and moved away so that we could pull the driver clear, fortunately he was only slightly bruised and once we got the cart unloaded and upright again we were soon on our way. But it was just one more example of how things seem to be going wrong.

As soon as we ride up to the glade where our main settlement is to be, I am all but inundated by requests and questions over what needs to be done first and everyone who travelled with me is exhausted even my guard look a little overwhelmed at what is before of us.

Galathil takes charge of the ponies and I can see Gimli busy with something but I seem incapable of settling to one task, and find myself running from one thing to another and achieving little. I realize now as I look around how unready my home is for visitors, while the guard Ada sent has begun to build flet in some of the trees, we are mainly still sleeping on the ground around an open fire, it is more like the camps the warriors use when on patrol than a new home.

Foolishly I had given no thought in advance as to where we would put the pavilion Vonild and Hild will be using. I am still trying to find a suitable place when Hild takes the decision out of my hands by announcing to the men who drove the wains that they can begin to raise the pavilion where she is standing. I am grateful but also angry with myself at not organizing things properly myself. But worse is to come, for I am then asked where we are to store the foods we have brought from the White City that failing is even more damning and shows my inexperience than any other. I am about to panic when Gimli comes stomping back down a small rise to the north of the camp and tells me that he has built a secure store for our supplies and brought metal to make a bake stove for bread.

That is something else I forgot to do, all those weeks in Minas Tirith, all my ‘so called’ planning and this is the result, chaos! My frustration with myself obviously shows for Gimli is quick to put me to rights. He grabs my shoulders making me look at him and speaks slowly and deliberately to ensure I not only hear but listen as well.

 “Look, Child, perhaps you should have had someone check over your supplies before we left, but you have not committed an unforgivable act.  No one expects you to think of every detail on your own.  That is why you have family and friends.  Let it go, Elfling.”

I nod in agreement but as soon as he has gone off to set up the stove I redouble my efforts to see that everything else that needs to be done is done properly.

By late afternoon, I am still unhappy with the chaotic appearance of the camp but at least the queen’s pavilion is up and the maids are engaged in making it properly comfortable for Vonild and Hild.

Thanks to Gimli’s efforts the dried foodstuffs are secured the tents for the men who drove the wains here have still to be raised for the night. Even though most of them will be returning to Minas Tirith tomorrow, men prefer to sleep under cover when they can, unlike us elves, and since I am to be living in the land of men I must begin to take note of their needs. I will have to make sure that some of my guard go with them tomorrow to see them safely back to the city, it is the least I can do. Gimli has decreed that two of the wains and the teams of horses should stay for the present, although for what purpose I have no idea.

I feel exhausted and I know that both Lady Vonild and Gimli have been watching me and are concerned. But I am so anxious to have things sorted out I cannot slow down or let others make decisions for me, I must not fail further at this early stage. I have made far too many mistakes already.

From the corner of my eye I see Vonild trying to get the bake oven to light and hurry across to do it for her so that at least we can eat a hot meal tonight.

I light a twig with my flint although it takes longer than I would like since there is too much breeze, I should have had a screen built to prevent such things happening, one more thing I have failed to organize properly. The need for a screen is made all the clear as the kindling flares quickly and I have to roll out of the way as a strand of my hair is scorched.

I hear Vonild cry out then she grabs the back of my collar as I attempt to stand and pushed me back to the ground with a firm hand. Before I can do more than begin a protest she has gathered my hair up and has begun braiding it into one long central plait such as young elflings wear. What is more she is scolding all the time she is doing it.

 “Ai, Child!  Do you not know how dangerous it is to work with your hair flying about loose like that?” 

“My hair is always loose,” I protest, “every elf here has loose hair.” This does not impress Vonild, for she snorts as if to suggest how foolish we must all be then!

 “It does not matter how everyone else has it,” giving my braid a sharp tug,”It is up to you to set the example when it comes to safety. Now slow down and be more careful, before something worse that a few singed hairs happen to you.” She then kisses the top of my head and I can feel myself blush as I hear someone nearby laugh. I am about to undo the braid and explain why it is not appropriate when I realize Vonild and just about everyone else is looking towards the path.

A group of riders is approaching through the trees, elves, I can tell by the horses and the livery, the standard flicks out and my breath catches in my throat. Oak and beech leaves on a deep green field edged with gold, a standard I know and love so well, they are from home.

I blink as I suddenly realize who is leading the procession, Ada? What brings him here at this time, and why didn’t the sentries send word of his approach, surely I sent them out to the perimeter of the wood, with proper instruction if not then that is another failure on my part. I cast a swift glance around at the disorder of a camp not yet ready for our occupation never mind the King of Eryn Lasgalen. Adar is not going to be impressed I could at least have been standing ready for his arrival as befits his station. My heart sinks at the thought of having to welcome the King of the Great Wood to such a place.

Vonild unaware of my plummeting spirits smiles down at me saying “you did not tell me that your da’ was coming!” she says.

 “I did not know myself.” I return as I hurry to meet my father.

 

 

 

 


	3. Chapter 3

 

 

FIC: The Road to Ithilien P3

Authors: Beth & Minnie

Disclaimer:  They do not belong to us, but we are working on it!

A/N: Another in our series of Gimli/Legolas POV stories this one set mainly in Ithilien as Legolas starts to set up his colony.

 

The moon is slipping down through the trees as I climb up into the branches of a welcoming birch tree. I am grateful for its calming song I am in sore need of it.

Across the glade I see that the lamps are still lit in my father’s pavilion although the rest of the camp is now in darkness and most are asleep.

To the right a horse moves restlessly in the picket lines and one of Gimli’s ponies whickers at it as if to say to take its rest while it can.

A sensible idea yet I will find no rest this night.

In the centre of the camp the fire has died down to a soft glow, the tents used by the men are silent save for an occasional snore or snort as they sleep soundly. The Queen’s pavilion is also in darkness; Gimli I know is sleeping there in the main chamber while Vonild and Hild rest in the inner sleeping chambers beyond. Their maids have a small tent nearby and I see one of my father’s guard standing close by keeping watch over their sleep.

In the few flet that have been built my off duty guard and those warriors and other members of my father’s household take their much deserved rest they have all worked so hard to get the camp organized.

After the initial shock of seeing my father riding towards me I hurried forward to meet him brushing at what I knew was a stained and dusty tunic in a vain attempt to tidy myself up a little. Adar was looking his usual immaculate self no matter that he had just ridden some 45 leagues from Eryn Lasgalen. He had with him his own personal guard as well as two of his counselors and behind him I could see more great wains trundling up the forest path. My father wore his most satisfied smile, which at least relieved my concern that something was wrong and as I approached and dropped to one knee he dismounted and took me into his arms giving me a hug and kissing my brow in welcome.

“Welcome Ada” I managed

“Thank you ion-nin, I am happy to be here.” He was still smiling but I could see his sharp eyes already raking the camp. I could well imagine his feelings at seeing such disarray.

I hurried to apologize but he waved my excuses aside “there is no need for that, we are here now and it will not take us long to put things to rights. Come I see Lady Vonild and Lord Gimli and a lady I do not recognize I would not wish to show any lack of proper respect, you must introduce me. You are the lord here.”

Before he reacquainted himself with Gimli and Vonild he turned to his counselor and raised one eyebrow, Lord Lithion nodded and immediately began to manage the setting up of the king’s pavilion. Adar had not even needed to speak and already the party from Eryn Lasgalen was setting to, to make their own encampment. It made my own efforts at organization look even more wretched and amateurish.

Lord of to Eryn gîl Ithil  if anything was needed to show me how paltry my own efforts at organization had been so far it was that question. I was ashamed and embarrassed and worse was to come.

Ada tugged on my single braid as I walked with him to where Gimli and Vonild waited, “And what have you been up to, to find yourself reduced to elfling status?” he chuckled as I turned bright red and tried to explain myself.

From then on the day went in my opinion from bad to worse and although everyone else seemed happy and relaxed and pleased to be in each other’s company I became more and more withdrawn for every amused comment, each successful thing achieved as the camp was put to rights was like the pricking of a sharp needle until I felt like a very well used pin cushion. I was happy when Ada, Gimli and Lady Vonild all retired and I could escape what I felt was their spurious sympathy for my inability to organize a simple encampment.

I checked then rechecked that the perimeter guards were in place, I had no desire to be caught out again. Even though it seemed that my own guards had not failed in their duty rather they had followed my father’s orders not to pass on the news that he was on his way as he wished to surprise me. I would not mind that so much save that it shows that  they like everyone else it still looks to my Ada for orders not me and who can blame them?

Were it not a pointless exercise in self pity I would drop my head into my hands and bawl like an infant, never have I felt so miserable.

 

XXXX

As full dark settles over the encampment, I look around at all we have accomplished already.  All our supplies unloaded and stored, a fenced area and temporary shelters built for the animals, all the tents raised and arrangements for a watch schedule made.  Guards are posted around the perimeter of the camp and Mistress Hild even has her bread sponges mixed and left them to rise so that they will be ready to bake before dawn.  It is a good day’s work for a jumbled assortment of folks who have never worked together before.  There have been no mishaps or disputes so far, so I would call this a successful day indeed. 

Most of the camp is in darkness now save for some dying embers in the central fire and a few open fires throughout the camp.  The King’s pavilion is still lit, but not for long I would imagine for forty five leagues is a long way to travel and the King and his company have been on the road for weeks now and must be ready to drop from exhaustion, though no one would be able to tell it from his grand entrance.  He looked as fresh as if he’d slept in his own bed last night, rather than night after night of sleeping on the ground in all sorts of weather conditions.  He hadn’t lost his usual charisma either nor his ability to charm my mother. 

When we left Eryn Lasgalen on our way to Aglarond, Mam did not expect ever to see the King of the wood again, for it is not a custom for dwarven females to travel. So she was thrilled when she realized who had ridden up the path, for she had managed to become great friends with Lord Thranduil in our short stay and found him almost as delightful as his charming son who she was already thoroughly besotted with.

  I could see little had changed, for upon spotting her, a smile lit up the King’s face as he came forward to greet us. He dazzled her further by dropping to one knee and kissing her hand, and while she tsked and shook her head at such doings, I could see she was actually blushing like a young maiden under his attention, something I had never expected to see.  She insisted that he leave off with such nonsense and take a look around the camp and all that had been done, making a special effort to point out the ingenious design of the bake ovens much to my embarrassment.  While my mother never hesitates to speak her mind to her family when she feels it is warranted, neither does she bother to hide her great pride even in the smallest of achievements. It can be disconcerting at times, but that is my mother.

The king made all the proper noises over our accomplishments; even congratulating his son when Lady Vonild pointed out how thoughtful he had been to arrange for her to have use of the Queen’s traveling pavilion during her stay. Legolas just stammered and blushed under her bragging, but she is as proud of her sworn son as she is of her natural one so he may as well get used to her ways, though I expect his embarrassment had more to do with the fact that the pavilion had been Arwen’s idea.  Likely he was still berating himself over that gaffe for he always takes mistakes, real or imagined, too much to heart and dwells on them for far longer than necessary.  We have discussed this particular trait many times, but so far it hasn’t made much difference as he still continues to expect perfection from himself that no one could possible achieve.

The rest of the evening was spent around the central fire talking of our successes so far and our plans for the immediate future.  Jesting and laughter reached higher and higher levels in direct relation to the amount of wine consumed.  Legolas took some good-natured ribbing about the braid my mother had forced upon him and Lady Vonild informed them that they were all fools saying she was surprised that any of them had a strand of hair left, letting it fly free like that. This of course caused everyone to explode with laughter and she played to her audience, offering to teach the king several braiding techniques so he could be as stylish and practical as she was. My mother’s own hair hangs past her knees when it is unbound, but I can only recall seeing it down on one or two occasions, so she knows what she is talking about. 

By the evening’s end everyone was relaxed and enjoying getting reacquainted and looking forward to working together.  Only Legolas was unusually subdued, which is understandable considering how keyed up he’s been over the last few days. He must be near ready to drop by now. But even now he has not settled down for the evening like everyone else. Mam comes up behind me shaking her head as she gestures toward him walking the perimeter of the camp for the second time tonight.

“He cannot keep this up,” she says, “You must talk to him. He listens to you.”

I snort at this. “He listens to me under great duress,” I tell her, “and sometimes not even then.” 

Unexpectedly she laughs at this, but insists it isn’t so.  “He values your advice. You must at least try.”

So I promise to try, but not tonight.  I have indulged in too much wine and it has been a long day.  Tomorrow will be soon enough

I am up before first light and step quietly out into the chilly morning.  I speak to the guards on duty, but few others are stirring yet as I walk around the camp. I would like to still be sleeping myself, but I know my mother will not let up until I talk to Legolas. I  have almost decided he must have actually shown a little sense and is still resting, but that turns out not to be the case for I soon spot him in the distance, coming up the path.  When he catches up to me he tells me that the men who traveled with us have already set out to return to Minas Tirith and he has been seeing them off, making sure the guard was in place to escort them and that they were well supplied.  Without the heavy wagons and carts, the trip back to the city will take less than a full day, so I do not see that much preparation was needed, and those men are hardly greenhorns who could not manage on their own, but when I point this out he looks at me as if this is out of the question.

“It is my duty to do so. I have made far too many mistakes already and I cannot risk anything else going wrong.”

I look again around the camp.  All is peaceful and running smoothly and I cannot think of anything worth mentioning that has gone wrong.  As is typical, he is just magnifying every little glitch and fretting unnecessarily over imagined errors.  Taking him by the arm, I turn away from the main camp toward where the heavy wains brought in yesterday by the King, have been left near the edge of the woods. 

“Come, Lamb, let’s see what your father has brought with him.”

“I can’t, Gimli,” he protests,  “The guard shift changes at dawn, and I must see that it is done.”

“They can manage just fine on their own,” I growl, tightening my grip on his arm, “now come.  I need to talk to you.”

He starts to argue further but a glimpse of my face causes him to change his mind rather quickly.  He knows from experience that I will tolerate his nonsense only up to a certain point, and we are rapidly approaching that point now.  He wisely decides to come with me.

“A little walk won’t hurt, I suppose,” he concedes.

“Good, Lad,” I say, “I knew you would see it my way.”  He mumbles something under his breath but I choose to ignore it.  We walk in silence for a few minutes and when I am certain we are out of earshot of everyone else, I tell him what is on my mind.

“Ye canna continue at this pace, “ I tell him, “it is impossible to personally see to every blasted detail of this project and ye must quit worrying over every little thing that is not perfect, or nothing will ever suit you.  Ye have plenty of folks to help you, so let them. Ye will be little good to anyone if ye keel over from exhaustion.”

Again he nods as if in agreement, but he is wearing the expression of long-suffering tolerance he often gets when he thinks I am being over protective, so I might as well be talking just to hear my brains rattle for all the difference I am making. I have to fight the impulse to give him a good smacking to wipe the false patience from his face, and send him to bed right now for I am fed up with trying to reason with him.  My words of advice change to words of warning.

“I can see ye are paying me no mind at all, but let me tell ye this:  you did not sleep last night, nor any of the nights we were traveling, nor our last night in the White City and it is too long. Never think I am not watching you, Lad.  You will sleep tonight if I have to carry ye to a cot and tie you to it. I do not wish it to come to that, but do not fool yourself into thinking I will not do it.”

At least that changed his expression for I see some new flicker of emotion cross his face.  Anger?  Fear?  Relief perhaps?  I do not know. The only thing I am certain of is that he will be sleeping this night or be sorely sorry he didn’t.  I know he is certain of that as well for he well knows from first hand experience that I do not make idle threats.  He severs eye contact and looks away first, and I reach out to pat his shoulder.  I can now tell my overly worried mother that I have taken the situation in hand and things should begin to improve.

 

Finally we turn our attention to the loaded wagons behind us that traveled all the long way from Eryn Lasgalen as a gift from the King of the Wood. And what a marvelous gift!  For the first time, I see just how special it is, for the wains are loaded with hardwood logs of every variety of tree that grows in the forests of Eryn Lasgalen:  giant oaks, maple, ash and beech are piled high and corded together with great ropes. One is even full of cherry, which will make handsome furniture and paneling.  It is awe inspiring to see this vast amount of material all gathered in one place and I almost rub my hands together in anticipation of having the chance to utilize it.  Together with the stone that is already available, we will be able to build a stunning showplace of a home.  I almost blurt this out, forgetting that Legolas does not yet know about my plans.

Perhaps now is the right time to reveal them. It might alleviate his anxiety a bit to know that some major details have already been taken care of.  I hurry back toward the camp and my quarters telling him that I have something to show him. On our way we run into King Thranduil who has seen us returning from looking over his gift and wants to know what we think. He explains that they are all from trees that died during the Battle Under the Trees and he could think of no grander purpose for them than to gift them to his child to help him begin his new life.  I heartily agree that we will be able to put them to very good use here, and invite him to come along to see what I have done as a surprise for his son.

I bring out the drawings and unfold them and the three of us bend over them.  The king is full of questions and asks for all the details to be explained and finally he announces them as brilliant.  He is almost as excited about my sketches as I am about his gift.  We are discussing what sorts of wood can be used for siding and how we will manage to saw the great trees into proper lumber when I realize Legolas has become very quiet indeed.  I turn to tell him that if he is unhappy with something, we can work to change it to his taste when I discover he is no longer in sight.  I turn to Thranduil with a questioning glance, but he only shrugs in response. 

XXXX

 

 

I was flying through the trees almost without realizing I had left the tent where my father and Gimli were still standing. I heard their voices calling out to me but I had no intention of stopping or returning to the camp, I would not even if I could have done. All I wished to do was to flee, I felt like a doe in panicked flight from a predator. Save only that there was no predator only me flying from the specter of my own inadequacy.

I raced through the tree tops until I was at least 2 leagues away from Eryn gîl Ithil and I realized I could run no longer.

So here I stand looking out over the Moon lands and hearing the call of the trees, the birds and small animals that are beginning to return now that the evil of Sauron is over thrown and all I can do is berate myself for my own stupidity.

I realize now too late that my efforts to prove myself ready to lead a colony here in Ithilien have just been dealt a grievous blow, and what is more I have delivered the blow myself.

I am tired, exhausted, and miserable.  Even an elf is not indefatigable and I have been pushing myself to the limits in the last few days as Gimli so sensibly pointed out to me this very morning. It seems I cannot even care for my own health without supervision, but I had so wanted things to be perfect especially after the unexpected arrival of my father all I have succeeded in doing is make matters far worse.

Ada is the kindest of parents but he is also a stickler for proper organization and order. He must be thoroughly shamed by my inability to even make a comfortable camp for those who are here to help me make a home in Ithilien. Oh everyone laughed last evening as we sat around the fire, but I felt eyes upon me, no doubt critical eyes, eyes that saw beyond my sad efforts and n doubt sympathized with my father over his less than perfect son.

I managed little sleep, even though I was already exhausted being determined that this day would at least start better than the last one ended. I saw the men off back to Minas Tirith, and remembered to send letters back with them to inform Aragorn and Arwen that my father was here and may go on from Eryn gîl Ithil to pay a visit to the White City.

As I walked back through the dawn mists towards the camp I was just congratulating myself on that when I saw Gimli coming towards me. He was wearing the expression he always uses when he is disappointed or angry with me and despite my telling him I had things I needed to be doing he insisted on dragging me off to look at what had been brought from Eryn Lasgalen in the great wains.

This I took as just an excuse to get me somewhere, where he could scold me for my shortcomings and I was correct. But strangely he did not accuse me of slacking or failing in my duty but berated me on taking on too much.

Of course I saw what really lay behind this. My friend Gimli has a generous heart and he is kindness personified to those he loves. He only said I was trying too hard, to shield me from my disastrous attempts to organize the camp and to care for those within it. I knew I was correct when he urged me to allow others to ‘help’ and advise me. I was so caught up in this realization that I did not fully pay attention to Gimli who then accused me of ‘paying him no mind’ and his words turned to a warning of what would befall me should I continue to ignore his advice.

In truth I may have welcomed his attention at that time. I am obviously out of my depth, wallowing in despair and the harder I try to make things right the worse things become. To have had some of the guilt and despair walloped out of me even if only temporarily would have been a relief. Of course I said nothing of the kind, I am not that stupid although I did have to bite my tongue not to tell him of how inadequate I am feeling.

Gimli, after frowning at me for a moment or two, turned his attention to the contents of the great wains and I let him, it may have been cowardice but I could not bring myself to admit even to Gimli how I am feeling.

Anyway, I admit to being curious as to what my father would think worthwhile to carry all this way and as I looked upon the different woods that were piled one on top of the other I was amazed and somewhat nonplussed.

No elf cuts down a tree or takes wood from a living one unless in direst need, this amount of timber and the variety of it must have cost the lives of many trees in my old home. I could not believe my parent would act so wantonly as to destroy trees such as these and for what purpose would he contemplate such slaughter.

Perhaps seeing I was by no means as pleased or excited as Gimli appeared to be as he examined each of the wains and found all the different types of timber. He told me he had something else to show me and I was forced to follow him back towards the camp.

As it happened my father was soon able to put me right over my concerns for the trees. For he was coming to join us just as Gimli told me of his ‘surprise’. Ada explained to me that the trees had been damaged in the Battle under the Trees and had surrendered their lives willingly. I was happy to hear that yet I still did not see why he should bring them to me.  I knew I would have some need of wood for the talon and flet I intended to use here but by no means so much as had been given me.

I was going to ask Adar what he had intended to do with all the timber but Gimli was anxious to show me his surprise and invited my father to join us as he was certain Ada would be interested in what he was about to show me.

We followed Gimli to the far corner of the glade where he had set up a temporary smithy and a canopied area where a truckle table stands surrounded by tools and tin trunks which I knew usually contained the materials he uses when drawing up plans for building such as he did for the Great Gates in Minas Tirith.

He searched through the rolled papers and finally extracted one and with a wide smile unrolled it, anchoring it at each end with a stone.

“Here” he cried, “Tell me what do you think don’t you think this will be just the thing?”  Ada and I looked down at the plans and I saw they were for a large fine house made of stone and wood, built on two levels; it was to have great mullioned windows and wide doors which would open onto a walled garden. Surrounding it were a variety of outbuildings, stables, storehouses, kitchens even from what I can tell a small house of healing.

Gimli was so caught up in extolling the virtues of his plans and my father seemed also entranced by the designs that they did not seem to notice that I had suddenly gone quiet, for as they talked it was borne in upon me as I looked more closely at the plans that the name of the place the house was to be erected was inscribed at the top of the first sheet, Eryn gîl Ithil!

I could not articulate my feelings or even make a comment on their excited planning for my future home, if anything was needed to bring home to me my inadequacy it was this.

While I foolishly dreamed of a simple life amongst the trees, they had seen what was really needed, all the hints and suggestions that I had overheard back in Minas Tirith came back to me in a rush Arwen’s words over Vonild, Aragorn talking of my holding court and dealing with governance, Gimli excitedly talking of good solid stone for building strong defenses, Faramir asking about my plans for storing supplies for the long winter months.

How could I have been so blind, so stupid?

I recall the conversations I overheard between Vonild and Mistress Hild on our journey here. They were talking of their homes and how their various journeys had made them appreciate them all the more. ‘A solid roof over my head again is all I wish for’, Hild had said.

‘Aye this junketing about and sleeping under the stars is all well and good for my elfling but I need stone around me. Dwarven kind are not meant to sleep on the ground or up in a tree.’

‘No more are humans, I know my new mistress the Lady Eowyn is looking forward to visiting Lord Legolas, but with her babe on the way, I doubt my Prince Faramir will allow her to come until there is a proper house for her and their child to rest in.’

The two females had gone on to talk of other matters and I had sniffed to myself and forgotten their words, for I was sure they would soon find my treetop home to their liking. Now I realize that while I may be happy to live in a flet, if I am to make my guests and family welcome and keep them safe they will need something more substantial.

And instead of accepting this gift in the spirit it was being offered, even if it did make me look even more foolish than before, I run away.

For now I lean back into the comforting arms of the tree I am sitting in, and allow it to offer me the comfort I so desperately crave. Normally I would look to Gimli or Ada to offer me such solace but that love and comfort is no longer available to me because I do not seem able to communicate my present feelings and fears to them.

My despondency and exhaustion after the last few days take their inevitable toll on me and I find the warmth of the morning sun lulling me into sleep. I fight it for I know I have painful decisions to make but the need for rest overwhelms me despite my best efforts.

It is late in the afternoon before I wake, the sun is low in the sky and I realize many hours have fled while I slept. My body is refreshed my mind is not. Yet what choices do I have before me?

I can no more stay out here as I could have deserted Aragorn on the Paths of the Dead. Like it or not, wish it or not, I have to return to Eryn gîl Ithil.

What else can I do but slink back with my tail between my legs, beg pardon for my childish fit of pique and try to do my best to put right all the mistakes I have made?

I know Gimli and Ada have my best interests at heart, once I have apologized, perhaps explained, they will understand it was not mere foolishness but lack of experience that caused me to react as I did. I should not have run off as I did like a feckless elfling. It made me look even more foolish than my earlier failings will have done, but it is not too late yet to be able to have some input into the future shape of the colony. On this thought I turn to make my way back to the glade hoping that my return will be welcomed and my earlier ill manners forgiven.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


	4. chapter 4

 

 

XXXX

 

I roll the parchment, which contains my carefully drawn out plans back up, and tie a bit of twine around it to keep it in place.  I put it back in the tin trunk with all my other plans and drafting tools before closing the lid and securing it.  Only then do I turn to see the King standing with a perplexed look on his face staring out toward the camp.  Clearly he is wondering what has caused his son to take leave of us in such a hurried fashion.

“Mayhap I have missed something obvious,” he says, “but I have no idea why he has suddenly turned tail upon us and taken to the trees. However, we have been apart for several months, and it may be that he has changed more in that time than I realized so I will ask you, Lord Gimli.”  He gestures in the direction he assumes his son has taken and asks, “What is amiss with my son?”

“I cannot be certain,” I tell him, ”but he seems to think he has to take care of everything single-handedly as if it is a crime to be inexperienced and require help, he’s not sleeping, and every mistake looms large in his mind.  Take your pick; it could be any of those or something I haven’t thought of.  I will not pretend to understand everything that goes on in that head of his.”

“Nor will I,” Thranduil laughs, but then sobers. “Perhaps I was premature in encouraging this venture,” he says. “My son has always been precocious but this is an enormous responsibility for one so young.”

“Aye, that it is,” I agree, “but the lad is intelligent, diligent and compassionate besides being likable, all good traits in a leader.  He just needs to learn to delegate some of the responsibility and not to think every little error he makes means he is a miserable disappointment to all of us, or that everything that goes wrong is because of his own failing.  He has a tendency to do that.”

“I should have considered that,” the King frowns heavily, “I should have prepared him more for what to expect.  This is entirely my fault.”

I snort at this, thinking the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree as the saying goes.  Thranduil looks at me puzzled, obviously not seeing the irony in his words, and waits for me to explain, but at the moment I do not have the energy for it and I have a feeling he would never believe me anyway if I told him that he and his son are two peas in a pod.  Folks who are alike rarely see it.  So instead of explaining, I suggest that we look for the Child and attempt to talk some sense into him. 

We look around the camp for a while, asking folks if they have seen him.  A few saw him sprint through, but did not know where he was heading.  When I ask Mam is she knows where he has gone, her brow furrows worriedly. She tells us she did not like the look of him last night when we were together around the fire.  He looked unhappy and worn out, she insists that one of us needs to find out what is wrong.  She looks at me significantly as if to remind me that I should have already settled this issue by now.  

We look further away from the camp.  For nearly an hour we search, calling his name and looking everywhere we can think of.  It is a pointless exercise.  Clearly he does not wish to be found.

“There is no use continuing,” Thranduil finally declares looking up into the trees as if communicating with them, and then he looks down at me again. “He is in no danger and he will come back whenever he decides to.  We are wasting time that could be used in more fruitful tasks.”

He is right of course. We are unlikely to succeed in finding him until he is ready to be found and we might as well be doing something useful with our time and I am anxious to get started.  We go back to our earlier task of discussing the plans for the house. 

We walk the property trying to find the best possible location and finally settle on one that seems perfect.  It is on the high side of the riverbank so there will never be fear of flooding and the only trees that need to be cleared away are small enough to be dug up and relocated instead of cut down.  He sets some from his company to begin that task right away, and then I suggest that we mark out the perimeter of the house and all the outbuildings so we can get a feel for where everything needs to be located for the best utilization of our space

By the time we almost have this finished, the sun has dropped quite low and my thoughts turn back to Legolas and where he might be. It is hard to believe so many hours have passed and we have been so caught up in our planning that I had forgotten he was missing.  Now I cannot help beginning to worry, even though I know he can take care of himself.  I am about to say perhaps we should begin searching for him again when he finally makes an appearance.  

He is walking toward us with a thoughtful expression on his face and I  am curious as to how he will explain his absence.   He pauses slightly when he notices his father and I watching him approach, but then squares his shoulders and continues forward.   He opens his mouth to speak, but then closes it again and swallows what he was about to say and takes a step back, looking back and forth between the king and myself.  When I look at Thranduil I can see that the reason for the elfling’s concern.  The king’s expression is quite daunting and the worry he hasn’t spoken of now comes to the surface and explodes in words of reproof.

“It is the height of bad manners to disappear without telling anyone, especially when you have people looking to you for guidance. It was poorly done of you,” the king says icily.  I wince a little at the words, for the lad hates more than anything to disappoint anyone, especially his da. He looks crushed. Still what the king says is true. If he intends to be leader here, he will have to learn not to follow every impulse that pops into that flighty head of his.  I try to ease the situation by smiling before I speak.

“Aye, Laddie, ye should have told us where you were going.  Ye were gone for hours and we were worried,” I say, “Where have ye been?”

Legolas flushes slightly and looks down at the ground.  “I fell asleep,” he admits a bit sheepishly.

That isn’t a bad thing, for he certainly needed it, but it doesn’t seem to have improved his frame of mind any.  The king’s face softens as he takes in the mortified expression his son is wearing. He puts an arm around him and gestures for him to see what we have been doing.

“We have gotten much accomplished while you were catching up on your beauty sleep,” he teases.

Legolas looks up and for the first time sees all the work that has been done in his absence.  He takes in the workers digging up trees and moving them aside for replanting. He sees the outline of the great house and all the other buildings and gardens that we have marked out and instead of smiling in relief as I had expected, he seems more distressed than ever.  I am just wondering what maggot has gotten into his head this time when he jerks free of his father’s arm and storms off in what could be called nothing besides a first rate temper tantrum.  I sigh and start to go after him, but Thranduil puts a hand on my shoulder to stop me.

“Do not put yourself to the bother of chasing after him friend Gimli,” he says aiming his voice at the retreating back, “we do not have time to deal with recalcitrant elflings at present.”

We go back to marking out where the house will be and begin discussing digging the foundation, but the pleasure has gone out of the task for both of us.

Supper that night is a dismal affair.  Legolas is still miserable and upset. I have no idea why, but he makes it clear that I have offended him in some way.  Any attempt I make to approach him is met with an icy glare and a cold shoulder.  I am reminded of our first weeks together on the quest when we had nothing but bitter disdain for one another, but for the life of me I cannot figure out what has him acting this way. Of course I pretend not to be affected by such a childish fit of pique, but admittedly it hurts that he is treating me like an enemy, especially when my only reason for being here is to help him get a good start in his new home. 

He refuses to speak to his father either, and I wonder if he realizes how thin of ice he is skating on.  The king also pretends not to notice his son’s foul temper, but I see him glancing at him from time to time and frowning slightly.  Lady Vonild does not hide her rising dismay very well.  She huffs and mutters to herself, glowering darkly at the three of us as if she is entirely fed up with every last one of us.  After a while Thranduil announces that tomorrow the great wains should be moved closer to the building site, so we can begin making lumber.  A few of his company nod in acquiesce and Legolas suddenly stalks off again, heading who knows where.  The king rolls his eyes and takes himself off toward his own pavilion for the evening.

Soon the crowd disperses back to their tents for the night until I am left alone with my mother.  I take out my pipe, tamp pipeweed into the bowl and light it.  I take a long draw to clear my head and then rub my forehead where a persistent headache is forming.  This has been a trying day, and I am about to turn in, when Mam sits down next to me.  She is never one to hide her views, so I brace myself for what she has to say.

“This is getting out of hand,” she says, “Can you not see that something is worrying that child? You need talk to him.”

“I have tried, Mam.  Clearly it did no good.”

“I do not mean you should hunt him down, demanding him to do what you think he should do,” she says.  “You think you’ve fixed thing by ordering him to quit worrying and to sleep more, but you are still no closer to knowing what is actually troubling him. He needs someone to talk to. You must find him and listen to what he has to say, and find out what the real problem is.”

“The real problem is he is acting like a truculent brat,” I point out.  Even Lady Vonild cannot deny that, so she doesn’t try.

“Aye, it is true,” she agrees, “but did you ever think there might be a reason behind such behavior? He is still very young by the reckoning of the elves, and maybe he doesn’t know how to tell you what the trouble is so he is acting out in anger and frustration instead.  It is not uncommon, you know. “

She is right of course. It would be wrong of me to let him flounder out there on his own when he is obviously upset and in need of some kind of attention. What form that attention will take depends on him, but I must not allow my own hurt feelings to keep me from carrying out what I consider to be my duty.  I will go look for him as soon as I finish my smoke.  But Mam is not that patient. She takes the pipe from my hands.

“I’ll take care of this for you,” she says, smiling as she brings it to her own lips. 

It does not take too long before I find him.  He is walking near the edge of the woods beside the large wains heaped with the hardwood logs from Eryn Las Galen.  He surprises me by leaping up onto one of the wagons and climbing to the top of the stack.  He grips one of the large ropes in his left hand and I see something in his right, glinting in the moonlight.  It is a dagger and he is about to cut the rope holding the logs together!  An image of his slender body being crushed to death by those great logs enters my brain, but before I can even form the words to shout out a warning it is too late.  He has already cut the rope.

 

 


	5. chapter 5

 

 

The closer I get to Eryn gîl Ithil the slower my feet move, and the more my resolve seeps away.

Of course my father takes umbrage at my prolonged absence and greets me with a terse ‘It is the height of bad manners to disappear without telling anyone, especially when you have people looking to you for guidance.’

I deserve such a homily and hang my head. Gimli’s welcome is warmer he smiles and says that they have both been worried about me and asks why I have been away so long. I explain instead that I fell asleep and they seem amused and I can feel a blush rising in my cheeks

‘Well we have gotten much accomplished while you were catching up on your beauty sleep’, Ada seems willing to forgive me and puts and arm around my shoulder and turns me towards the raised area to the south and I see what has transpired in my absence.

It seems I am too late, to have a say in what is to be built here Ada and Gimli have already begun to move trees and plants, the ground is staked out with ropes and colored ribbons so that the exact locations of all the buildings can be seen.

Painfully aware of the many glances being sent my way by elves and humans alike as they await my verdict my throat closes up and I know I am close to tears so I choose to say nothing and walk away across the camp.

Ada apparently thinks my withdrawal another sign of my childishness for he prevents Gimli from following me by calling out “Do not put yourself to the bother of chasing after him friend Gimli; we do not have time to deal with recalcitrant elflings at present.”

That remark hurts and I am sure that such a comment will do little for my standing here in what was supposed to be my new home yet it is perhaps not undeserved.

The evening is torture, I do not wish to talk to anyone, and avoid both Gimli and my father as best I might for I do not know how to approach them having made such a mess of things so far and I still do not know how to articulate all I need to say. I can see Lady Vonild is concerned and I almost give into the impulse to pour out my trepidation and worries to her but that would be unfair.

Adar has already retired to his pavilion, obviously tired of my intransigence and inability to give voice to my feelings. I decide to steel myself and try to speak to Ada at least, so I go to his pavilion where the guard informs me Adar is in conference with Lord Lithion I choose to wait under the awning until their discussions are over but while I stand there I overhear them talking, Ada is speaking of what needs to be done here and how much work Lord Lithion will have ahead of him, ‘we have made a poor start’ I hear Adar say, ‘but I hope that with you here things will improve rapidly’.

They go onto talk over which of the wains of timber they will move in the morning so that the first lumber can be prepared for the house. I do not hear anything further it is all I can do not to burst into tears. I am to be replaced here, sent home no doubt in disgrace. It is of course Adar’s prerogative to appoint a new leader for the colony but how will I be able to bear it?

 

My steps lead me to the edge of the woods beside the large wains heaped with the hardwood logs from Eryn Lasgalen. I leap up onto the nearest wagon and climb up to the top of the stack. The logs are held in place by strong rope and pegs to stop them moving while in transit, a red mist seems to descend as I look at them and then over to where the markings are for what should have been ‘my house’ and before I can stop myself I take my belt dagger and slash through the first of the ropes intent on pushing two or three of them over to the markings and flattening them.

Yet even as I feel the rope part beneath my knife I know I have made a grievous error, the whole stack is shifting beneath my feet; the momentum will take not just the top few of the logs but the whole wain full. I attempt to stop the forward momentum but it is impossible. There is a rumbling and crashing and I have to leap swiftly to one side as the logs, tumble off the wagon and roll toward the marked out area. I give a strangled shout as I fear they will spin into the main camp area but instead they fall into a dip and crash one on top of the other in what looks like a troll’s version of spillikins.

The noise of course has woken most of the camp and folk hurry out to see what has occurred but I have eyes for only one person, for across from me stands Gimli, his face ashen, his eyes wide and a look of almost terror on his face as he hurries forward and clasps me in his arms.

XXXX

 

 

 

Everyone has a moment in his life where he wishes he could go back five minutes in time and change a bad decision, to unsay thoughtless words or undo a foolish action.  Legolas is no doubt experiencing such a moment right now as the concerned and curious make their way over to see what all the commotion is about.  Folks exclaim over the toppled logs that have landed in a small ditch in a helter-skelter fashion, everyone wondering how such an astonishing thing has happened.  My heart is pounding wildly and I have my elfling clasped in my arms when I realize he is still holding the incriminating knife in his right hand.  Without much thought, I quickly take it from him and return it to the sheath at his belt before releasing him from my grasp, though I maintain a firm hold on his wrist.  It is difficult to say which of us is trembling more.

I turn toward the crowd, take a deep breath and try to sound as confident as possible.

“The ropes just gave way folks.” With a little help from a sharp blade! My voice sounds deceptively calm, even to my own ears.  “No one is hurt and it is nothing we cannot put right in the morning.”  I smile and repeat this as many times as necessary, gesturing with my free hand, that everyone should return to his bed.  I see one of the king’s personal guard among the curious spectators, but no sign of the King himself.  No one asks any questions and only my own mother looks as if she is not fooled in the least by my calm exterior.  She picks up the rope ends and examines them then shakes her head.  I wonder if she is going to say something, but she does not.  Instead she just walks away after giving me another significant look that I understand to mean that I am not handling the situation with our elfling very well as if the haphazard pile of logs that we will have to spend half a day reloading tomorrow isn’t proof enough of that. 

Of course the trouble of that is nothing compared to what might have resulted from such a careless and dangerous act.  Again this child has managed to shave years off my life by putting himself in needless danger, something that never fails to invoke my ire, for he is precious to me and a vital part of my life.  Without releasing the wrist I am holding, I grab his shoulder in my other hand and turn him around to face me. 

“What in the name of all that is righteous and good did ye think ye were doing?” I say between gritted teeth. My calm façade completely falls away and my voice raises in both pitch and volume, “Ye could have been killed, ye crazy elfling!  Answer me!”  I give him a rough shake.

To his credit, he does look completely stricken.  “I had no idea you were in the vicinity,” he chokes out,  “ I would never have risked endangering you had I known.”

For some reason those words meant to soothe make me even angrier.  “Ye would not risk endangering me, but ye haven’t a thought for your own safety? Is that it? How many times do we need to go over this?”

Mother may not think I am handling things well, but I will handle them in a way we are both familiar with.  I can tolerate and justify childish behavior up to a point, but not when it comes to risking life and limb for no good reason.  Instead of returning to the camp, I turn toward the woods, dragging my wayward elfling behind me.  The moon is full, so it is almost as bright as midday as we trek farther away from listening ears.  I assure the perimeter guard that we pass that nothing is amiss and we are just taking a stroll through the woods. I do not bother to worry if he will believe me or not. 

As soon as I am certain we are out of earshot of the camp, I seat myself on the first conveniently fallen log and haul my miscreant charge across my lap, a position that has become familiar to both of us.  Even the words I say as I begin my task have been said many times before.

“It is unacceptable to place yourself in needless danger,” I begin, punctuating each word with a sharp resounding slap.  “And if ye continue to insist on doing so, then ye will keep finding   yourself back in this same situation no matter how many titles ye have connected to your name.”  With that I place my hand at his waistband and he lifts his hips slightly out of long practice, even while protesting as I yank his leggings down.  I continue silently now, but with a will borne of the desire to make him understand how important his life is to me, even if he has little regard for it himself.

His emotions are so close to the surface that I have barely warmed him up good when he begins to weep softly.  I harden my heart and intensify my efforts, but only for a moment longer.  Very soon, I help him reorder his clothing and allow him to slide to the ground, whereupon he immediately places his head in my lap.  At times like these he is usually the most pliant and it seems like the best time to find out what has been on his mind.

“Can ye not tell me what is amiss, Lad?” I ask as I stroke his long hair.  Evidently he cannot, for he only buries his face further. I suppose I will have to guess.  Thinking of the destroyed markers I have an idea.

“Is it the house plans?” I suggest.  “I designed it as a gift to you, but if ye do not like them, they can be redone.  All we have up so far are stakes and ribbons.  It is nothing that cannot be changed.”  He does not confirm or deny this, but my words seem to have upset him further. I do not know if that means I have guessed right or wrong.  I wait for him to decide to confide in me but after several minutes it becomes apparent that he is not going to.  He dries his eyes on his sleeve and  he stands to leave.  Whatever it is he is not yet prepared to tell me about it.  I feel ready to pound my head against a tree in frustration. 

We walk silently back to the camp, me wanting to strangle the truth from him and Legolas evidently preferring to wallow in misery on his own.  As we walk past the queen’s pavilion, I notice Mam is standing outside awaiting our return.  She snags me by the arm holding me back as Legolas continues past.

“Well?” she growls.

“I still know nothing,” I admit, “He will not say what the trouble is.”

She raises her chin in the air.  “We shall see about that,” she says glaring at Legolas’ retreating back, “he will not refuse to talk to me.  And besides, you should already know what the problem is.  How obvious does it need to be? Do you males have to have everything spelled out for you?” With those words, she rolls her eyes and stalks off in pursuit of her elven child.

 

 

XXXX

I try and bury my head into the lap of my friend, wanting desperately to escape from this situation I have placed myself in. Despite every effort my tears continue to fall, not for the punishment I have just received, no that was well earned, indeed. Although I would not say it out loud, Gimli was far less severe on me than my crimes merited. Have my wits gone a begging, how could I have acted in such a fashion? I could have killed my dearest friend, which thought makes me weep all the more.

Of all the immature, mindless, idiotic things I could have done to draw attention to my unhappiness with what was happening, that was surely the stupidest.

I not only woke half of the camp but drew all the wrong kind of attention to myself, I can only be grateful that my father did not leave his pavilion to see what was going on. No doubt he is still in conference with Lord Lithion, I can only hope that is the case for had he done so he would surely have realized that what happened was no accident. Gimli did his best to hide the truth but the fact of the matter is that Elven rope does not fray or break it can only be cut by an elven blade. Everyone will know by morning what really happened. My face burns, at the thought of what will transpire then. Gimli may have stayed his hand but my father surely will not and I will deserve it should he do so.

Above my bowed head Gimli is talking to me trying to get me to speak of what has been worrying me, but when he asks if it is worry over the colony or because of the plans for the house and if it is then they can easily be amended to fall in with my wishes, I can stand it no longer. He drew those designs as a gift, he must have spent a great deal of time over them and lavished on them every care, just as he does with all his work and now someone else will have the chance to see the house being built and see the colony begin its work.

Needing to get away from Gimli’s kindness and concern, neither of which I deserve I stand and hurry ahead of him back to the camp, still saying nothing in reply to his pleas to tell him what is wrong, because what can I say? I am grateful when he is waylaid by Lady Vonild and I make my escape.

I do not return to my flet but instead go off up to where the tent that Gimli built to hold the food supplies and the bread ovens are situated. I curl up behind the largest of these laying my head on my knees and hugging them close. In my misery I fail to hear the approach of Lady Vonild, and she is standing in front of me tutting in that disapproving manner that only females seem capable of producing.

I duck my head to avoid her gaze but it is a pointless exercise, “Well, lad?” she grumbles.

“I am sorry.”

She snorts at this assertion, “About what exactly?”

Even though I know she will disapprove I shrug and mutter “everything.”

She laughs and then settles next to me, pulling me into her arms and after initially resisting this solace I allow myself to lean into her welcoming bulk. Her hands running through my hair she croons gently until she feels the tension seeping out of me and I relax a little.

“Now,” she tries again, “tell me what is wrong, I think I can make a good guess but I would rather hear of it from you.”

“I …  I do not know, that is … I… I am sorry I just cannot …”

Vonild’s hand cups my chin, “Yes you can. Start at the beginning lamb I promise all I will do is listen, not judge.”

I fall forward onto her shoulder and begin my tale … As she promised she makes no comment, merely allows me to talk, waiting when I stutter and struggle and as I come to the end of what is a painful recounting of my failings and poor choices in the last weeks all she does is hug me close and kisses my brow.

“Good lad,” she tells me, “Now I want you to go to bed. No, I will not take any excuses as to why that is not possible.  Tomorrow I promise you we will begin to put all to rights.” Her hand caresses my still damp cheeks, and her thumb brushes away a stray tear, “trust me lambkin; in this Mam knows best, aye and Mam knows just what is needed to see this pickle you have got yourself into sorted out.”

I think ‘pickle’ is a piece of perfect dwarfish understatement I can see no way of sorting out the mess I find myself in, but Vonild is so certain, and I know how formidable she can be, and I desperately want to hope that she can indeed sort out this ‘pickle’ for me, so I allow myself to be led back to my bedroll and tucked in as if I were still an elfling and Vonild announces she is staying where she is until I go to sleep and with her guarding my rest I find that I am able to step onto the path of dreams, my eyes grow heavy and I sleep.

 

XXXX

 

As I walk the camp, the first rays of sunlight peek over the horizon and I wonder what this day will bring.  Yesterday turned out to be quite a disaster and I am still in the dark as to what the reason for that was though I have tried my best to find out. Mam had come back to the pavilion last night shaking her head and with her mouth set in a grim line. She would not say what she had talked to Legolas about, only that it was time some things were settled and she was just about in the mood to settle them herself since no one else could seem to manage it.  She would not elaborate further at that time, though I expect I will not have to wait too long to find out, for when Lady Vonild has a bee in her bonnet she is not one to hold her tongue, especially when it comes to the well being and happiness of those she loves.       

 I walk back to survey the damage and see what must be done to reload the spilled logs and set things back to rights.  It will take plenty of manpower and a good bit of time to fix this mess and I find myself shaking my head in wonder over what must have possessed the child to make him do such an astounding thing.  When I get closer I see that someone has arrived before me. King Thranduil is standing next to the empty wain with one end of the severed rope in his hand and a slight frown creasing his brow.  I go to stand next to him and we both silently stare at the jumbled pile of timber.  For a long moment we stand together, lost in our own thoughts but after a while the King breaks the heavy silence. 

“I am not young, Lord Gimli,” he begins, “yet never in my whole life have I known hithlain rope to break on its own. It must be cut with an elven blade.”

I nod not so much to agree but to indicate that I have heard him.

“My captain informed me that only you and my son bore witness to this ‘mishap’, “ he continues.  “Now excuse me if I am being presumptuous, but if I were to wager a guess, I would say it was my somewhat temperamental offspring who caused this whole debacle. Is that correct?”

Of course I cannot deny it. “Aye, it was,” I admit, “though by the look on his face I don’t believe he expected quite this spectacular an outcome.”

“And the outcome might become yet more spectacular before it is finished,” he says with conviction.  “I believe it is time I paid the elfling a visit to discuss some of the finer points of leading with diplomacy.”

I chuckle at the King’s choice of phrasing.  “I hope your discussion goes better than mine did,” I tell him, “ I could not convince him to give me a clue as to what was on his mind at the time.”

“Perhaps I can be more persuasive,” he says, and we turn to walk back to the camp.  Before we arrive however I can see my mother trudging toward us with the same determined look from last night. 

“Just the two people I was hoping to find,” she declares, “Come, I have something to say and I want you both to hear it.”

“Could it not wait until later this morning, My Lady?” the king requests, “I was looking for my son.”

“He is still sleeping,” she informs him firmly. “He was worn out and frazzled last night, and I will not have him awakened.” The king gives me an incredulous look, and then his lip twitches a bit, but Mam does not seem to notice, so determined is she to have her say.   She also doesn’t seem to be concerned that she is manhandling the famous woodland king as she takes his elbow and leads him to the queen’s pavilion, where she gives him little choice but to enter. I follow along without question for I know it is futile to argue with my mother when she has her back up and besides I am very interested to see how this is going to turn out. 

Once inside, Mam recalls her manners and offers the king a seat and a cup of tea, but she does not waste time in friendly chitchat. I also sit down and close my eyes bracing myself for the storm.  Thranduil, however, seems thoroughly intrigued.  He wraps his elegant fingers around the cup and leans forward giving my mother his full attention.  Just a hint of a smile plays on his lips as he awaits whatever it is that she is about to say.  She does not make us wait long.

She does not take a seat herself, but just stands before us with her arms folded across her chest.  She looks at each of us severely before she begins to speak.

“There are too many bad feelings going around this camp and it is high time something was done to stop it,” she says.  “I had hoped you all could sort it out on your own, but I now see that I am going to have to paint a picture for you.”

The king’s eyes widen in curiosity as if he has never seen the likes of Lady Vonild before.

“Please do, My Lady,” he encourages her, “I admit to being very curious as to what you will have to say to us, for I cannot see how I needs must have a picture painted for me in regards to my child.”

“Then I shall say it plain,” she avows, “Our Elfling has been a terrible state of distress and you will forgive me for saying it, but it is primarily the fault of the two of you.”

The king sits suddenly upright and opens his mouth in astonishment. I wonder if he is about to object, but Mam raises her hand to prevent him from speaking.  “No, let me finish,” she insists. “I am not claiming that he is entirely blameless, but if either of you had a sensitive bone in your bodies, you would see beyond the obvious to the fact that the poor child is floundering.”  She points an accusing finger at the king, “he is convinced that he has already failed in this venture, and that he is a bitter disappointment to you and that he will never be able to live up to your expectations.”

“I’ve never said such a thing!” Thranduil exclaims,” Nor ever thought it either.”

“Of course you have not, but consider how things appear from your sons point of view.  He is already anxious over things going wrong, is struggling to get everything just right and agonizing over every tiny mistake, and then the one person he wants most to impress comes riding in in the middle of the chaos, exuding confidence from every pore, and able to command his followers with a glance.”

The king furrows his brow in confusion.  “But I have worked with the same people for centuries, of course they understand my wishes,” he says, “he has only just begun here, it takes time to build such understanding. Besides I never noticed any chaos or terrible problems when I arrived. In fact I was quite impressed with how well he had things settled.”

“Then why did you not say so, for goodness sake?” she demands. Thranduil is clearly bewildered.

“I thought he knew,” he says.

“How on Arda do you think he would know?” she explodes, “did you think he was a mind reader?  I vow you males are impossible at times!”  She shakes her head in disbelief before continuing her tirade. “It is vital that he understand that you are proud of his accomplishments and the only way he will know is _if you say so._ ”

She says the last bit very slowly and deliberately as if she fears we are too dense to understand if she talks too fast. She pauses a moment to let that sink into our thick masculine skulls before taking a deep breath and going on.

“You would not put a baby on his feet and expect him to take off running on its own would you?  Nor would you continue to carry him forever, but you would hold his hand and encourage every step with words of praise.  Early adulthood is little different from early childhood. He still desperately needs your approval and it is wrong to withhold it.”

Thranduil looks to be mulling this over and if I’m honest this is a new thought to me as well. I too noticed how well he was doing with this new assignment, yet never thought to offer commendation.  I see now that I should have done so.  

“I do see your point, Lady Vonild,” Thranduil says mournfully, “but you must remember that his mother was still with us when he was learning to walk.  Without her feminine insight, I fear I have made many grievous errors.  I should have been a better father.”   

My mother pinches the bridge of her nose and sighs as if she has just about run out of patience. “No wonder the child focuses so much on mistakes,” she grumbles.  “he came by it honest.”  She pulls a chair up and sits down across from the mighty King of the Wood and reaches out to pat his hand.

“You are anything but a bad parent, my friend,” she soothes, “he is a good, Lad and you have done very well on your own.  You just need to remember that you have the power to build up his confidence or to crush it, and what you say, or do not say can make all the difference in the world.  And you cannot make every decision for him.  The two of you going off with all your rapturous plans without even asking for his input or considering his wishes does not help inspire independence either.  He needs you to guide, not take over.”

“Perhaps we were a bit overly enthusiastic in our planning,” I admit.  Who am I kidding?  After the initial fall out yesterday morning, we hardly noticed the Lad’s absence I am ashamed to say.  

“I agree,” the king nods, “yet it does not excuse his bad manners or reckless actions.”

“That is so,” Mam agrees, “his behavior has been less than appropriate over the last little while, but it should not have been allowed to digress to this level.”  Now she turns to me and frowns. “The child has been out of sorts since a week before we left the White City.  Had you bothered to put a stop to it back then, a lot of trouble could have been avoided.  Instead you waited until he was so frustrated that he was destroying property and endangering his life before you finally stepped in with any real attempt at setting him straight and even then you gave up before getting any genuine answers.”

I feel my lip twitch at Mam’s accusation, thinking that Legolas would not thank her for implying that I should have walloped him sooner.  But laughing would be a fatal mistake at this juncture, for Mam would not find it humorous and besides she is right of course.  I should have paid better attention and acted sooner to alleviate the situation, one way or another. 

“What do you suggest we do?” the king asks her, honestly perplexed.

“Well you can both begin by wiping the stunned expressions from your faces and then you can wait here while I fetch the Lad and bring him here.  I will not presume to tell you exactly how you must deal with things, but I will say this: I will not have that sweet child further hurt by thoughtless words or even disapproving looks, so think carefully about what you wish to say before I return.”

With that she stalks out, leaving the two of us alone in the wake of her fury. There is no door to slam, but we both flinch at the moment it would have slammed had there been one. It is odd that neither of us even consider defying Lady Vonild by leaving the queen’s pavilion.  We do not speak while she is gone except when Thranduil asks if his facial expression is appropriate for the occasion since he would rather not risk the lady’s wrath by appearing disapproving when she returns.  He laughs as he says it, though it is a bit ruefully and with a note of sincerity. I assure him that he looks most sympathetic and try to adjust my own features when I hear her determined steps returning. She is just outside the tent when we hear someone whispering frantically.

“This is entirely unnecessary.  I do not wish to see anyone right now.  Please my Lady…”

“Do not  ‘My Lady,” me young elf!” she whispers back, “It matters not if you wish to see anyone. It is time this thing was settled, and settled it will be whether you are ready or not.”

There are sound of more whispering and a slight tussle, but Mam’s resolve is a force to be reckoned with and soon, both she and Legolas burst into the tent.  He glances briefly at us and then looks at the ground as Mam leads him to sit in the abandoned chair across from us.  She places a protective arm around his shoulders and one hand under his chin.

“Look up, Sweetness,” she says lifting his face and forcing him to raise his eyes to see us,. “These are the faces of two people that you can always trust and depend on.  Never should you doubt that they love you and have your best interest at heart.  Either would happily crawl backward over glass if it would help you in any way, but they cannot read minds any better than you can.  If you are having a problem then you must _say_ it.  Come, Love, tell them what is worrying you.”

For a long moment none of us speak, but just gawk at one another. I glance at the other faces around me. Legolas looks miserable, Thranduil empathetic but uncertain of what to say and my mother just about fed up with dealing with the lot of us.  I am just trying to form the words to break the awkward silence that is growing between us when Mam completely loses patience.

“I swear the male species is a menace to society!” she claims, “is a little simple communication too much to ask for?  All of you START TALKING!”

XXXXX

I wake to the sounds of laughter and song and the smell of bread already baking. I wonder how I could have slept so late and so soundly and then recall that ‘Mam’ stayed with me until I had stepped onto the path of dreams. Since it is well after dawn I presume she must have laid down the law and insisted I be left to sleep as long as necessary.

I stretch and look down on the camp and my initial good mood dissipates rapidly as I see the chaos my actions of last evening have caused. Yet already elves and men are moving and stacking wood, I recognize Mistress Hild, leading one of the dray horses as it pulls the logs apart, she seems to have many capabilities beyond that of a companion, but of course as a member of the Rohirrim her affinity with horses is great and she is using this to good effect so that the work is proceeding more swiftly than I could possibly have hoped for.

Taking a towel I slip away to bathe and on my return find myself waylaid by Lady Vonild who is looking very resolute.  I fear the worst, and am right to do so, since she announces that I am to accompany her to meet with Ada and Gimli.

I love and respect them both but presently I would sooner crawl backwards over glass than be in close proximity to either of them, but Lady Vonild is determined and my objections are given no credence, in fact should I make any effort to avoid this meeting I suspect I would be hauled there by my ear tips, a very painful experience I would sooner avoid if feasible.

All too soon I find myself outside the Queen’s Pavilion; desperately trying to convince her that going inside is a ‘bad’ idea.

“This is entirely unnecessary.  I do not wish to see anyone right now.  Please my Lady…” I whisper frantically.

“Do not ‘My Lady,” me young elf!” Vonild whispers back, “It matters not if you wish to see anyone. It is time this thing was settled, and settled it will be whether you are ready or not.”

This is not what I wish to hear, indeed I would sooner hear I am about to be tossed into the fires of Mount Doom than be told I have to go in and face Ada and Gimli.

But Mam’s resolve is a force to be reckoned with and despite my very best efforts I find myself propelled into the tent and forced into a seat opposite to where Ada and Gimli are sitting. I cannot bear to look at them I am so ashamed but Vonild puts a hand under my chin and forces me to look up.

““These are the faces of two people that you can always trust and depend on.” She assures me “Never should you doubt that they love you and have your best interest at heart.  Either would happily crawl backward over glass if it would help you in any way, but they cannot read minds any better than you can.  If you are having a problem then you must _say_ it.  Come, Love, tell them what is worrying you.”

I want to speak, truly I do, and I can see from their expressions Adar and Gimli are waiting for me to do so. Adar is looking inscrutable, Gimli is frowning and I, well I cannot think of anything to say.

For good or ill Mam takes matters into her own hands once more  “I swear the male species is a menace to society!” she pronounces “Is a little simple communication too much to ask for?  All of you START TALKING!”

All three of us flinch at this command and begin to speak one on top of the other, our efforts to accede with this demand leading to us all speaking at once.

“I am sorry!”

“ion-nin we must talk”

“Eh laddie, I would never have …”

Needless to say Lady Vonild takes exception to our inept attempts to speak and snaps, “Enough!”

We all fall silent then Vonild turns to me and says “lamb, you go first, tell your Da and my fool of a son, what it is that has been causing you so much pain.”

That of course is a much easier thing to demand than it is to acquiesce to, how do I explain to the two I care so much for, my fears and feelings but ‘Mam’ is frowning at me and I know that should I fail to fall in with her stipulations I am likely to find myself with a very sore backside, something I very much wish to avoid.

So, I take a deep breath and begin, “I … I … I am so very sorry, truly I am …” I can go no further so I bow my head and attempt to hide the tears that are threatening to fall, I feel wretched.

‘Mam’ throws her hands up in the air at my inept attempts at explain. “If this is how you communicate no wonder the three of you know nothing about what the other is thinking” she grumbles. “Let me make it easier for you, how did you first feel when it was suggested you lead the elven colony here?”

I find it easier to look at Vonild rather than Ada and Gimli, for I fear what their reactions will be to my words. “Excited, then increasingly as I thought about what I was about to undertake nervous that I may not be able to handle such responsibility.”

“Humph, and who did you speak to about these worries?”

I risk a quick glance at Ada and Gimli, and I can see they are both looking at me expectantly, what do I say? Of course I know I should have asked for help, that I did not do so merely serves to reinforce my feelings of inadequacy. I hesitate for a moment longer then manage “I wanted to tell you, truly I did but somehow I could not find the words …”

 “Were we so unapproachable?” Ada speaks up and I am shocked to see he looks as upset as I feel. Gimli too is looking at me with that stricken expression on his face that I have seen only twice before in all the time I have been with him.

“No, it wasn’t you, it was me.” I try to explain “I so very much wished to make you proud of me. I did not want you to think that I was incapable of doing the task you both seemed to think I was up to. So I tried to do everything myself, I did not listen, not to Estel or Arwen, or Galathil when they tried to get me to speak of my worries and ask for your advice and support. I wanted to prove to you I was worthy of your trust, yet all I seem to have achieved is to show you how unprepared I am and how much I have failed both you and your faith in me.”

I try very hard not to end on a sob but I am afraid I fail and I brush my tears away with the back of my hand frustrated that I cannot even do this properly.

“Eh, lad, don’t take on so” Gimli pleads. “Of course ye haven’t failed us, why we couldn’t be prouder of you than we are now.”

“Proud?” I sniff, “I have failed at every juncture. I did not even think of providing Mam and Mistress Hild with somewhere to sleep, it was Arwen who did that, and … I forgot about the ovens, the cart over turned I …”

“All of which problems were soon set a right,” Gimli tells me.

“But not by me!”

My father finally finds his voice again “How many years have you sat in on my council meetings, and listened as Beliond or Selinde or any number of my counselors have offered me their guidance and support, do you think that makes me weak or lacking in ability?”

I stare at him for a moment or two, “Of course not … but …”

“You cannot do everything ion nin, you cannot be everywhere at once. None of us are omnipotent however much we may wish that were the case. We all need help at some time or other. I do not try to do everything myself, nor I am sure does Gimli or Estel. We all have our particular strengths, but others may be more capable than we are in some things and to refuse to let them take on responsibilities if that is the case is not a sign of strength but of false pride. Not that I think in this case you were being proud, you were just attempting to do too much.”

“Listen to your Ada, lad” Gimli urges. “You can’t go on as you have been no rest, little food, you are too hard on yourself, aye and I have not helped.” He shakes his head, “I should have spoken up earlier, I could see you were driving yourself too hard.”

“Nay, Gimli, it is not your fault, it is no one’s fault save mine.”

I see Vonild rolling her eyes at my Ada and he nods as if reluctantly agreeing with her over something.

“Now that it is not,” Gimli growls

“But it is Gimli, do you not see? Had I voiced my worries earlier, spoken of my plans more openly, asked for advice over things I was unsure of, listened to what others were saying …”

“You could equally throw that accusation at me and your Ada, lad. Mam said something was wrong, but I was so keen to get here and begin work on your new home I took no notice of her warnings.”

“No more did I,” my father says sadly, “I came here to help and all I have achieved it seems is to make matters worse. I should have seen you were distressed I can only say how sorry I am. It was never my intention to usurp your position here. Just let me say I am very proud of you and there is nothing I wish more than to see you succeed and be happy here in your new home.”

“And there is another thing that needs to be raised” Vonild puts in, “this home of his, and the house you two are so caught up in planning to build. The one you got so excited about that my lambkin was missing a full day and neither of you seemed to notice.”

Gimli and Ada look suitably abashed at this accusation and when Mam demands to know if either of them have thought to ask me about my own plans for my new home.

Before they can rush into speech I speak up “I was upset about the plans, but I realized yesterday while I sat in the forest that my own ideas about what I would need were unrealistic in the extreme and that what you had planned for me was a much better proposition. I was coming back to speak to you both about it, and to see if we could incorporate some of my ideas into the plans only, only when I got back …”

“When you got back lad we had started without you,” Gimli puts in, “Eh, what a pair of fools we were not to wait, but with the arrival of the timber and the extra hands to help with the work I was keen to get started. No wonder you were so upset.”

“Is that why you cut the rope on the logs” Ada asks.

“It was a stupid, dangerous thing to do” I offer flushing up to my ear tips, expecting them to be blistered as they deserve to be by my father’s righteous wrath instead he answers mildly

“It was, but in the circumstances perhaps understandable. I see you are surprised ion-nin but as I have sat here thinking over what Lady Vonild said earlier and what would make you do something so reckless. It came to me that my captain said you were waiting to speak to me last night, but that you then left very quickly. I was talking to Lord Lithion about the future work of the colony.”

“I understand why you intend to replace me with Lord Lithion Ada” I hurry to put it.

“Replace him?” Gimli leaps to his feet “Why he hasn’t even got started yet. You have got to give the lad a fair chance, at making a go of it.”

I look across at Vonild half hoping she will rise to my defense as well but she is watching my father and smiling.

“Those who listen at doors or in this case at a canvas entrance, rarely hear the whole tale,” Ada tells me, “Yes I was discussing Lithion’s role here, he has offered to stay and act as your seneschal while you build your new life here, but he is not here to usurp your position but to support you. I would not order any of my folk to move here, so I was waiting for him to make the suggestion, he will only stay if you wish it of course.”

“Oh!”

“Would his presence here be welcome?”

I nod, for I have always gotten on well with Lithion and I have come to realize in the last few days that I am going to need all the help I can get as I begin this new life.

“Then that is well. I trust I have your approval Lady Vonild?”

“That you do, a very good idea, and you lamb should know better than to think your da would serve you such an ill turn, this is what comes of too little sleep and too much ‘gallivanting’ about. It seems to me you need someone beside all these males to take care of you, good food, plenty of rest aye and time to talk and listen. It is a good job I am here.”

Since none of us are foolish enough to contradict this statement and I am too busy hugging first Ada and then Gimli Mam nods and announces “Then I think it is time we put that behind us. I am off to see about getting you something to eat lamb. I suggest the three of you spend the time talking through what is needed here, and how it is best achieved. Between you, you should be capable of managing that at least, and you lamb” she takes me by the shoulders and looks me straight in the eye “Speak out and don’t be afraid to say what is in your mind.” I nod “Good lad, now I am going to find Hild by the time I return I expect you to have come to some agreement on what sort of house it will be that I will be spending next summer in at least.”

And with these words Mam sails out of the pavilion leaving us three males to do as we are bid, if I have learned only one thing so far since we came into Ithilien it is that it is never wise to ignore Lady Vonild.

 

XXX

 

The three of us sit in stunned silence at the as we watch the tempest that is my mother storm out of the tent.  When Lady Vonild decides to set things straight she doesn’t mince words or leave a person wondering what her opinion is.  She states her case loud and clear and woe to any fool who dares to disagree with her!

If I am truthful I must admit she had some very valid points.  I was so caught up in my planning and working that I failed to notice that Legolas was struggling so much with his new role.  I knew he was working too hard and worrying too much, and yet I brushed it off as something that would pass in spite of the fact that Mam continued to point out that all was not well with him.  The fact that she had noticed before we even left Minas Tirith, shows how in tune she is with those she loves and cares about.

 I have tried to do right by my elfling since we came together. I feel I know him, perhaps better than any other, and yet I still have much to learn about understanding how to read between the lines and see the root of a problem.  As my mother has so delicately pointed out, I might be able to learn a great deal from her about how important it is to communicate thoughts and feelings, which is not something I am much accustomed to.   It was heartbreaking for me to see the look of surprise on Legolas’ face when I told him we were proud of his accomplishments. He honestly hadn’t known how I felt about this; but then why would he since I hadn’t told him? As Mam said he is no mind reader.  It would have been the easiest thing in the world to say, and yet I hadn’t even thought to say it until Mam pointed it out.  Had I bothered to offer words of praise and approval, it might have been enough to give him the courage to speak of his own fears and worries and we might have avoided a great deal of pain and trouble.

 I’ll just say my eyes have been opened to a few things during this experience, not the least of these being the fact that the workings of the feminine mind is something not to be lightly dismissed.  They seem to be more adept at seeing clearly what we insensitive males miss entirely. Females are highly esteemed among Aûle’s children and the reasons why this is so has been made plain over the last little while for Mam has managed to set us to rights with a few choice words.  Without her help, no doubt we’d still be struggling along, no closer to settling our problems than we were last night. 

I turn my eyes away from the tent flap and toward the other two occupants of the room.  They both still seem to be speechless in my mother’s wake perhaps contemplating her last words to each of them before she sailed from the room.  To the King she had said he must remember to consult his son on his wishes before giving orders to anyone. He needed to remember that he wasn’t lord here.

  She informed Legolas that he was finished ‘gallivanting’ about at all hours and that she would personally see that he eat and sleep on a regular schedule and furthermore he had best not keep his worries to himself in future or she would have something to say about it.  This said while wagging a warning finger in his face.  She didn’t seem concerned or intimidated in the least that she was scolding the famous woodland king and his son.  To her they were just a couple more hopeless males who needed her help to function properly, and truthfully they both looked positively contrite under her dressing down.

 I understood how they felt myself when she turned to me and reminded me that she didn’t just talk because she liked the sound of her own voice, but I should pay attention when she has something to say.  She pointed out that she had told me back in the White City that I shouldn’t make too many plans for the new home without even speaking to Legolas, and that I should have paid her heed when she had warned me that he was unhappy. She had then looked at each of us in turn and ordered that we come up with an acceptable plan for the house that we were here to build and that she expected us to have it worked out posthaste. Recalling this now, I leap to my feet for I have no desire to further raise her ire.  Thranduil and Legolas obviously are thinking the same thing for they both rise at the same time and we all speak at once.

“Perhaps we had best get started…”

“Gimli, what did you do with those plans?”

“I’ll fetch the plans and we can take a look…”

We all laugh a bit nervously as I rummage around until I am able to bring the drawings up and carefully unroll them.  We put our heads together and over the next several hours manage to alter my original design enough that we are all happy with the outcome.  By the time Mam comes in to see our progress we are pleased that she is now smiling in pleasure rather than clucking in disapproval. 

“Very good!” she says, clapping her hands in delight. “I knew you could manage it if you put your minds to it.  I am very proud of all of you!”

It is evident by the foolish grins on our faces that we are ridiculously pleased with her words of praise, proving her point once again: communicating thoughts and feelings are a vital part in getting things done. 

 


	6. Epilogue

 

 

I have to school myself to patience and calm, it is unseemly for an elf to bounce but I am very close to doing so. The sentries have just signaled that our visitors are less than an hour away, I look around to ensure that everything is in place and notice a broom left propped up against a wall. Gimli seeing me about to leap off to put it away, places a hand on my arm.

“Let it be lad, see, someone is about to pick it up and put it out of the way. There is no need for you to be trying to do everything yourself.”

This is a phrase I have become very accustomed to hearing in the last year. After the debacle of those first few days here in Eryn gîl Ithil when everything I touched seemed to go amiss I have learned to listen to those around me and take note of their advice.

Although I feared that I would never be fit to lead my folk here in Ithilien I have become more accustomed to it now and I feel I am making good progress. That is not to say I have not suffered my share of setbacks but at least I can say I am moving in the right direction.

And that is due in great part to the support I have received. So many have offered me their help I have been overwhelmed. My father stayed with me for two months, much longer than he had originally intended and his presence certainly helped me begin to make the transition to leader, and even when he left Lord Lithion remained here as my seneschal. His knowledge and skill, his infinite patience and calm demeanor even when faced by all kinds of crisis have been a great boon.

Gimli has also spent a great deal of time with me for which I am profoundly grateful. Lady Vonild, was escorted back home by my father so that Gimli could remain here to oversee the building of my new demesne. I would have given a great deal  to have been present during their journey north, from what little Ada has told me in his letters it was quite an experience.

Gimli has been the rock to which I have clung when things were not going well. His great heart and prodigious energy sometimes makes me feel old. His dark eye seem to see all that needs to be done and then gets it done with as little fanfare as possible. It is only by his efforts that I stand where I am today, had I been left to my own devices I suspect I would have been forced to return home defeated by the challenges that have been thrown at us. I glance down at my friend and my heart fills with a sense of great gratitude for everything he has done for me.

Well when I say everything there is the small matter of his heavy hand, which has far too often found its way to my poor defenseless rear end when he decided I was doing too much or not listening to those who are older and wiser than I. I smile inwardly, for while I will never be brought to admit it, I am even grateful for the fact that Gimli will not allow me to ‘get away’ with things and will rein me in when necessary.

Beside Gimli, Aragorn sent a contingent of men to help with the building and Faramir also sent some of his White Company to work with us.

For several months, the whole area rang to the sound of hammers, and saws, of men’s voices and above all Gimli’s stentorian bellow as he oversaw the building work which was being undertaken mainly by his own people who having completed the Great Gates in Minas Tirith had chosen to join their lord here in Ithilien to help him with the building of my new home.

I was very quickly made to feel superfluous in that area, I have little skill as far as building in stone is concerned so instead I was given the task of working on the railings and pierced wooden screens that would adorn the open walkways from the main house into the telain amongst the trees.

Then there was new furniture to make, using the beautiful wood my father gifted to me, and as more elves came to join us including some from Lothlorien they added their own expertise to those we already had.

One of the ellith had acted as housekeeper for Lady Galadriel and she offered to take charge of organizing the preparation of goods that would be needed in the house once it was completed and her input has been hugely valuable. She soon began to order hangings and cloth woven for inside the house and saw to it that all the other items I may not have thought of as needful until it was too late were on hand when the house was ready to be occupied.

Of course there is still a great deal to do, but it was decided even before Ada left that our priority would be in making the main house fit for proper occupation for any who came to visit.

When I say ‘any’ we were really referring to the proposed visit of Lady Vonild this summer I think it is fair to say that all we have done here to make the house comfortable has been done with her primarily in mind. My ‘mam’ had a very firm idea as to what would constitute ‘proper suitable accommodations’ in mind before she left to return to Erebor and none of us wished to be on the end of her sharp tongue if we had failed to live up to those expectations.

Well today we will find out if we have done enough to satisfy her …

I look around from the open balcony where Gimli and I are standing, below us the ground is still littered with building materials as the outbuildings and other houses are being erected, but still it is clear how the whole estate will look when we finish.

We have already begun to plant the gardens and to sow crops to supplement our food supplies, the barracks for my guard is completed, as is the healing hall. So much has been achieved it is almost overwhelming.

The house itself is a thing of real beauty, a combination of dwarfish and elvish design that makes it unique. Faramir said it contained the best of both our cultures when he came to visit a month ago bringing Eowyn and their new son and I think he is correct.

There is good stonework but also elegant wood and metal structures, the windows and doors open wide so that the house is cool in summer, but they also have strong locks and banding so that should we ever be under attack the main house will be an impregnable fortress. A high wall around the perimeter also offers easily defensible positions, as well as protection for the gardens within.

“Well lad?”

Gimli has been watching me as I surveyed our efforts over the last year

“I believe Mam will be happy” I reply.

He chortles and claps his hands together “Well I surely hope so.” Then his eyes go to the edge of the trees and I see the horses approaching, this time there will be a proper reception for our visitors and Gimli and I go down to stand on the steps outside the house as the cavalcade of horses and carts pulls up and I see that not only Mam has come to inspect our efforts but also Lord Gloin and there smiling at me from the back of his favourite stallion my Adar.

I step forward, giving them a bow and say the words I can now speak with pride “Mae govannen, welcome to Eryn na i gîl Ithil and the house of Legolas Thranduilion Lord of Ithilien.”

 

XXXXX

I look out over what we have accomplished in the last year, and cannot help feeling proud and satisfied. I have been more often here than in my own home, yet it was entirely worth all the time away and hard work to help my friend begin his new life here in Ithilien.  The entire year has been a busy one but the last week especially has been a flurry of activity as we prepared ourselves for the arrival of my mother.  No one wanted to risk her ire if things were not to her liking.

 I chuckle to myself when I look at the lower gardens now blooming with purple irises that only two days ago were coming up almost a league south of the main house.  Though it is the wrong season to separate and move the bulbs, Legolas took it into his head to have them moved, blooming plant and all, closer where ‘Mam could admire them.”  Being unhappy with the speed that the gardeners were working, he soon took a trowel and a shovel and joined them in their efforts.  After catching him just before dawn alone and still at the task, we had yet another ‘discussion’ about the importance of not taking on too much and trying to do everything himself. I reminded him that he would not be the only one hearing about it if he looked exhausted and uncared for when Mam arrived, and I had no desire to be accused of not paying proper attention to my obligations. 

I shake my head, as I watch him now, his eyes darting to a broom that has been left leaning against a wall.  Only a firm hand on his arm and a few words remind him once again to let others take care of their own tasks. He has made improvements in learning to delegate responsibilities, but it has been a slow process.  I do not say anything more about it, however, since I see in the distance that our long awaited guests have arrived.  King Thranduil, my own father and mother, along with a contingent of elven guards who have escorted them on their journey all make their way toward us with their horses and carts. 

Legolas steps forward with a bow and a formal greeting, which is returned with an equally formal response from his father.  This proper behavior lasts for as long as it takes Thranduil to dismount from the horse and make his way up the steps where he grasps his son in a tight squeeze.  Smiling, he gestures broadly at all that has been done since he last saw this place.  He is clearly impressed and does not hold back in saying so. 

“You have made remarkable progress here, ion nin,” he says, “of course I never doubted for a moment that you would do well here.”

Lady Vonild watches the scene unfold between father and son and nods her approval at the king’s words of praise to his child. Clearly she hasn’t forgotten the fiasco from last year and is intent on making certain we remember what she has told us.  She takes my father by the arm and together they greet us with warm smiles, and she reaches out to stroke my hair and fold me into an embrace in the way she used to do when I was a child. 

“I can see all is well by how healthy and happy you look, my son,” she smiles and then turns to Legolas and pulls him down to kiss him firmly on the side of the head, “and you, lamb are as pretty as a picture as usual.” Legolas blushes but manages to thank her and greet her warmly.

 After the welcoming of the guests comes the grand tour.  Everyone is impressed with our progress and exclaim over the house itself.  Looking at it myself I get the same feeling I had one year ago as I looked on the Great Gate of Minas Tirith. The house is beautiful just as the gate was.  Perhaps it is an act of vanity to say so, but it is a true work of art combining the best of dwarfish and elvish architecture and designs.  Working together we have created something out of the ordinary. 

The highlight of the tour is when we are able to show Mam the room where she will be staying, the one we designed with her in mind.  The outside walls are made of highly polished stone reminiscent of her own home in Erebor, and the inside walls are of cedar paneling stained to retain the natural beauty of the wood.  The large window can be opened wide to a take advantage of the ever present breeze, but they can also be covered with heavy shutters meant to give the cozy feeling of being within the protection offered by a deep cavern.  The rich, red velvet drapes can be pulled to keep out the light when she would rather ignore inclement weather and the brass sconces hanging on the wall have been lit and are giving off a warm glow.  Thick rugs cover the floors and all the furniture is of heavy polished wood and jewel-colored fabrics.   Unlike most of the other guest chambers, which are all pale colors, filmy drapes and live plants, everything about this room speaks of solid quality, warmth and luxury. 

For only the second time in my memory, Lady Vonild is rendered speechless.  She steps inside the room and turns around and around taking in all the details. There is no need for her to say anything, for I can see by her shining black eyes that she is pleased beyond expectation.

I watch her for a moment and a smile comes to my lips.  My mother, the world traveler, the trendsetter, the breaker of rules, and fixer of problem, the dwarf no one dares to cross, pulls from her pocket a delicately edged handkerchief-one she purchased last year in the White City-and wipes away her tears of joy.  The pride in her eyes is unmistakable.

 To be able to do this for her, to pay her back in some small way for all her years of care and concern, for her unwavering support and her helpful advice is an extreme pleasure; the sight of her almost childlike excitement over this room designed just for her is a memory I will always treasure as long as I live.

Legolas catches my eye and smiles and I know he too is delighted with her reaction and I wink at him and smile back.  It has been a long year with plenty of mistakes, setbacks and hard, grueling labor at times, but looking at the beaming faces of those around me, I can honestly say it was well worth it. 

 

End

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Eryn na i gîl Ithil (wood of the silver moon) shortened to Eryn gîl Ithil

 

**Author's Note:**

> If you enjoyed this story and would like to read more like it check us out at http://groups.yahoo.com/group/TheLeaflingChronicles/
> 
> New members are always welcome


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